Like puppets on strings
by Republic-of-Yolossia
Summary: Sequel to Red Doll. In an attempt to save his marriage, Peter Kirkland books places for his entire family on the most luxurious ship in the world. But when the unthinkable happens, it becomes a race against time to save everyone he loves from perishing in the icy waters below. SeaWy, KugelDonia, UkrLat, AmeBel and ThaiViet. Rated T for character death.
1. Goodbye Vienna

_March 1912, Vienna_

'That's the last case,' concluded Franz Edelstein, tightening the straps on a battered, but expensive, trunk full of clothes. He hauled it over to the other two, also full of clothes, and placed his suitcase, filled with sketchpads, paints, brushes, pencils and a piece of canvas, just in case he saw inspiration for a masterpiece on his journey, on top in a neat pile. He picked his wallet, papers, tickets and keys up off his desk and stuffed them in various trouser and jacket pockets. Everything seemed accounted for, there was no last minute search for hidden items and Franz felt that the day was getting off to a good start. Of course, it would have been a smarter idea to pack the night before, but Franz was never one for staying focused on the boring things long enough. It had taken every ounce of self control to not take a break every five minutes and Franz was feeling pretty pleased with himself. It would appear pampered rich boys were not entirely dependent on servants.

Nevertheless, he decided to leave the trunks for a member of staff to carry to the car, as they looked pretty heavy, and Franz decided to instead focus his attention on his appearance. He was well known across Europe and even America for being the son of the renowned Roderich Edelstein, as well as his own artistic achievements, and it was important to look presentable so as not to tarnish his and his father's reputations with sloppiness. Checking in the full length mirror standing in the corner, Franz decided that everything was in order. His clothes, a ruffled shirt, tie, cream waistcoat and violet jacket with gold trimming were neat, if a little old fashioned due to his father's insistence that Franz wears his old clothes to cut back on expenses, insisting that they were still in good condition. They made him seem interesting, so Franz didn't care too much. His silvery hair, now down to his shoulder blades, was in a neat ponytail; apparently plaits weren't sophisticated enough on a man. He'd not cut it since that memorable night when he was ten and his mother's ex fiancé tried to kidnap them both.

He cast his eye around his room one last time, taking in the grand furnishings, like his luxurious four-poster bed, mahogany writing desk (well, drawing desk), matching wardrobe and rich violet carpet. He'd created the room to reflect his personality, eccentric and artistic, but at the same time majestic and ostentatious. Of course, to everyone else, that came across as an excuse to keep the room cluttered, messy and full of whatever weird crap he found in shops and market stalls. His shelves were filled with books, ornaments, a globe, black and white photographs and sculptures of his own creation. His desk was not much better, being covered in half-finished drawings and letters from Lars Oxenstierna, Peter Kirkland and the occasional fan.

The most recent letter, from Peter, sat neatly on top of the pile, detailing plans for the trip he was now about to embark on. They were all to travel to New York on the RMS Titanic, the grandest luxury liner in the world. He was excited about the prospect of travelling to America. This time it would be of his own free will and he'd be going with his friends, not being forced to at knife point crying and screaming…

Pushing the memory out of his mind, Franz tightened the ponytail and brushed a loose hair off his jacket. His hair had grown back slightly curly at the tips, giving it more volume and, according to his friend Lars, making him look like some sort of 18th Century composer. But that was probably because of the clothes too.

Chuckling at the thought, Franz left the room, walking through the spacious, grand hallway and descending the stairs to the family room.

Both of his parents were there, Roderich read from a newspaper, nestled snugly in an armchair whilst Elizabeta lay on the sofa reading a novel.

'Everything's packed,' he informed them, 'I'll send someone up to load them into the car. I guess there's nothing left to do but bid farewell.'

'You're going so soon?' asked Elizabeta, setting her book down on the coffee table and standing up to hug him.

'Hey now, Mutti,' he whined, blushing from the affection, 'I'll only be gone for a month or two. And it's a long drive to Calais, then a ship, and a train. It's best to go now if I want to make it to London by April.'

'It's still so long,' she retorted, 'stay safe and be good.'

'I will,' he promised.

Roderich folded the paper and stood up, walking over to the pair and placing a hand on Elizabeta's shoulder.

'Don't worry, Eli,' he soothed, 'he'll be back before you know it.'

'Yeah, Mutti,' added Franz, 'I know I'm going to have a great time so you must too! How about you and Vatti go on a holiday of your own? I heard Milan is quite nice.'

'Not a bad idea,' agreed Elizabeta, 'we really should spend our retirement years travelling more.'

'I'll send you lots of postcards,' promised Franz, 'and I'll make sure they're pretty ones too!'

'You will be back in time for your exhibition, right?' insisted Roderich.

'I wouldn't miss it for the world,' stressed Franz, 'besides, that's months away; I have plenty of time.'

Roderich gave a small smile, pulling his son into a hug, 'we're so proud of you, you know that, right?'

'Come on Vatti I'm only going on a little holiday,' Franz rolled his eyes, 'besides, I heard this trans-Atlantic liner was built to be 'unsinkable'. So don't worry about me.'

'We're your parents,' said Elizabeta, 'it's our job to worry.'

'So do you have everything?' asked Roderich.

'Ja,'

'Keys?'

'Ja,'

'Tickets?'

'Ja,'

'Passport?'

'It's in my pocket,'

'All your clothes?'

'Vatti,' said Franz sternly, 'I packed everything last night,' a teeny lie, 'and I even made a checklist of what I need so I could tick it off,' okay, a massive lie. But Mr and Mrs Edelstein were stressed enough as it is without worrying about him forgetting something.

'Have fun with you friends,' said Elizabeta.

'Ah, Mutti,' whined Franz, 'I'm not a child.'

'But you are going to be spending time with you friends and having fun,'

'Ja, but…' Franz shook his head, 'never mind. I'll write to you when I reach Calais and tell you all about what I see. I'll even keep a journal of my trip so you'll be able to hear about everything I do and see.' He smiled brightly, 'I have a feeling this will be a very inspiring journey. Who knows, maybe I'll create enough art to fill another exhibition.'

'I don't doubt that,' agreed Elizabeta.

They heard a beep from outside and Franz chuckled, 'guess I should be off then.'

He walked outside to where a shiny black car was waiting, luggage in the boot and an impatient driver in the front. He jogged down the front steps and walked across the gravelly path, turning around before he reached to car to wave to his parents and call out 'goodbye', then he opened the back door and sat down on the soft, leather seats.

'So, this is it,' he whispered in excitement, 'I'm going to see Lars again.'

…

Yes, I know, I'm starting another story. I think I'll alternate updating chapters of this and Third Option.

Now, this story is a sequel to Red Doll/How far we've come, so you might want to read those for it to make sense.

Okay, on to human names. So you probably know that Roderich and Elizabeta are Austria and Hungary, but Franz is the name I use for Kugelmugel and Lars is Ladonia.

I probably won't post any more chapters until I've finished writing Red Doll but after that they should be pretty regular.


	2. Loveless building

Okay here's the next chapter. I hope I've put sufficient warning for character death because, well, it's pretty important that you remember that when reading this chapter.

…..

1st April, London

Peter rubbed his eyes and sat up, yawning and stretching. He glanced at Charlotte sleeping peacefully next to him, sighed and got up. He quietly dressed into his trousers, shirt, waistcoat and jacket before completing the outfit with a bowler hat. Wandering downstairs into the kitchen, Peter found that he was the first person up. Collecting a plate of bread and cheese and a small pile of papers, he sat down in one of the wooden chairs around the table to eat and read. The papers contained five tickets for him and Charlotte, their two children and his brother Lars along with details of their departure. He hoped Charlotte liked the idea of this holiday; she'd always said she wanted to visit America sometime and now they would all go as a family. He'd even managed to talk Raivis into getting tickets for him, Yekaterina and their baby; they'd even bought tickets for Ivan and Natalya to come along as well so now Charlotte could go on holiday with her entire family, even her father, William, who was travelling around the vast country at the moment and would meet them in New York. Heck, he'd even invited the eccentric artist Franz Edelstein for company for Lars as the pair were pretty close, in case he felt left out surrounded by families with small children. Everything was going perfectly and Peter tried to feel happy about the whole thing, but couldn't when he remembered why he'd planned the whole thing in the first place.

He'd forgotten the last time him and Charlotte had showed any affection towards each other. They never even said they loved each other any more and Peter feared that was because they didn't. Had they used up all their affection as children or were their lives too ruled by work and sorrow and children and life for love and fondness anymore? Was Charlotte wishing she could just divorce him if it wasn't so stigmatised? Maybe Peter could try fixing things by showing some affection himself, but he wanted to make a big gesture for her. And besides, they could all do with a holiday.

He glanced down at the tickets on the table, his own name staring up at him:

_Peter Kirkland, second class_. There it was, in writing, proof that he was going on the most luxurious, unsinkable ship in the world with everyone he loved. Well, almost everyone. Arthur was pretty jealous that his work kept him from getting a ticket for himself.

He folded up the tickets and stuffed them into his pocket, lest any of the others find them, finished eating and went downstairs to open the shop, which had been his since his parents died two years ago.

The room where the toys were held always looked dark and uncared for since Tino died and no matter how hard they tried, how hard they cleaned, it was just not the happy, warm place anymore. It lost the magic Tino and Berwald gave it and just felt like a regular shop now/

No one had been too worried when Tino first got sick. After all, the guy always managed to bounce back from far worse things before. But he got worse and worse, barely able to speak without coughing and Dr Wang was called late one night after Tino had collapsed in front of them. No one could believe it when Dr Wang told them that Tino wouldn't make it. After all the man had been through, Peter was starting to believe he could never die, but he did, thankfully, it was peacefully in his sleep, surrounded by friends and family.

Berwald died only months later. Of a broken heart, they'd told everyone. It seemed fitting; the pair had been close, even if the direct family were the only ones who'd known how close they really were, no one doubted the strength of their friendship. No one suspected any other reason for his death and Peter and Lars were happy to keep it that way.

After all, what Berwald had done meant he wasn't allowed to be buried in a graveyard, and Peter knew he would want to be next to Tino forever, which was probably what made him commit the ultimate sin in the first place.

Peter still felt anger over what his father done, sympathy, too, but it was those left behind who had to deal with the consequences and he just could bring himself to forgive him completely. Peter was now living with the memory of finding his father dead with a bottle of poison in his hands, of shaking him by the shoulders, hoping it wasn't too late to save him, even though he was long gone by then.

At least Berwald had lived long enough to see Peter and Charlotte name their second child Tino. He'd been happy about that, definitely, doting on his baby grandchild until his death. Just as he had with their eldest child, Jemima, named after Charlotte's mother, one of the victims of what was now called the workers murders that happened nearly 24 years ago.

Peter pushed those memories out of his head, not wanted to think about Mathias' murder, or how Tino was left fighting for his life at the end of it all. Instead, he opened the door and began sweeping, something he'd done since he was a child and gave him security; plus, it allowed his mind to wander.

At least Tino and Berwald managed to have twenty four happy years together. They'd even travelled as a family to Sweden to meet Berwald's parents, who'd been both surprised and overjoyed at how big Lars had grown, seeing as the last time they'd seen him he was a baby, and even treated Peter as another grandchild, for which he was grateful. The loved hearing stories of what Berwald and Tino had done and how they'd become successful. They also asked about Aleks and Emil, but avoided mentioning Mathias in case it upset them.

The four of them had even gone to Finland to track down any extended family of Tino's and found out his father had a younger brother, who was so relieved that one member of his family had survived the fire that took Tino's father and siblings that he didn't even question Berwald, Peter and Lars' presence, accepting them as family and filling in any questions Tino had about his parents and siblings. Tino's uncle had a family of his own, and Peter and Lars were able to play with cousins for the entire trip.

Peter tidied the shelves in the window and wondered when Aleks and Emil would turn up. They were coming from Bristol, where a sister shop had been set up, to look after the place while he was away. Peter had told them not to worry, that he'd already called in his brother Arthur from Liverpool, but they insisted. He wondered why, but guessed it was because they just never visited anymore, not since Berwald's funeral. Besides, they had lives and a business to run. Peter hoped Lilli wouldn't be too swamped on her own in the shop. Still, the girl loved the place and making pretty toys with Emil.

Peter was somewhat jealous of how Emil and Lilli were still in love after all these years, making him wish the tenth of April, the day of boarding, would hurry up. Still, there was a lot to do: packing, getting the boat train to Southampton, and actually telling everyone about it. The only members of the party who actually knew that they were going were him, Raivis and Franz. He wanted to make it a nice surprise for Charlotte, Lars and the children.

He could almost picture their faces when they found out.

….

Just like to say that I do not own Hetalia or its characters in any way, shape or form!

And I hope you enjoyed this chapter and please review, even if it's criticism, because they mean a lot to me.


	3. The art of Shipbuilding

_Later that morning, Liverpool_

'So,' began Arthur, leaning back in his cushioned, bulky chair, 'what do you boys want to see me about?' He was sitting behind a large oak desk in his office, feet resting on the desktop, which, coupled with his eye-patch and scarred face, made him look more like a pirate than a businessman. Outside the window, there was a clear view of the docks in the late morning, and the sound of traffic, ships and gulls drifted in the dingy, cluttered room. Arthur wore a business suit, complete with hat and cigarette hanging from his mouth, in his late forties, though he appeared younger, he had an air of fierceness, authority and wisdom that only came with an ex-seaman. In front of him, sitting on smaller, more rickety chairs were two of his most trusted employees: Alfred and Mathew Williams-Jones.

'Well, it seems our ship's been cancelled,' explained Alfred, pushing his glasses further of his face.

'The coal strike's stopping vessels up and down the country,' elaborated Mathew, playing nervously with his hands.

Arthur frowned and sat up, stuffing the cigarette out in an ashtray and resting his elbows on the table, fingertips touching.

'Well, I knew the strike was disruptive but I never thought it'd be _this_ bad,' he scratched his chin as he thought, 'sure, we've suffered but I never thought _White Star_ or _Cunard_ would be too affected.'

'They've booked us on another ship though,' said Mathew, 'down in Southampton.'

'Oh?' Arthur looked at him with interest, 'Still on _White Star line_?'

'The _RMS Titanic_,' Alfred grinned widely, 'even better than the one we were going on. Third class, so we don't get too much unwanted attention, but apparently their third class is as good as first class on some ships.'

'Bloody brilliant,' Arthur grinned too, 'you know what to do?'

'Board without incident,' began Alfred.

'Check out the facilities,' continued Mathew.

'Do a bit of… err… 'market research',' concluded Alfred 'to see what people like in a ship then sail back here and relay what we've found out to you.'

'Well done,' complimented Arthur, 'pretty soon we'll be building ships as grand as the ones by _White Star_ and _Cunard,_ boys, who knows, maybe even more ostentatious than theirs.' He opened a desk draw and began rifling through old magazines, 'hey I think there's a publication all about it.' He found a year-old copy of _The Shipbuilder_ and flicked through the pages, 'everything of any importance regarding the _Titanic_ and her sister, the _Olympic_, is in here. Keep it, something for the train journey. There's even some stuff on those water tight compartments she's supposed to have.' He passed the magazine, open to the relevant page, across the desk for Alfred and Mathew to examine.

''_In the event of an accident'_,' Alfred read out loud, ''_or at any time when it may be considered advisable, the captain can, by simply moving an electric switch, instantly close the doors throughout, practically making the vessel unsinkable_.' Hey how come you never thought of that?' he looked up at Arthur questioningly.

'Hey shut it you,' growled Arthur.

Mathew flicked through the pages, trying to find anything else worthy of note, 'hey, apparently it's very electric powered for a ship, I mean, says here that: '_Electricity, it need hardly be pointed out, is extensively employed in all the departments of the Olympic and Titanic. In addition to the large supply required for lighting purposes, electrical power is used for deck cranes; cargo, boat and engine-room winches; passenger elevators; stores, mail and pantry lifts; ventilating-_''

'Yes, yes, we get it,' Arthur raised a hand to shut him up.

'…'_the electrical installation, therefore, may virtually be termed the nerve system of the ship'_,' added Mathew quickly.

'Here they even got lights for when the lights go out,' exclaimed Alfred, holding the magazine closer to his face to read.

'Huh?' Arthur wrinkled his nose, raising an eyebrow at Alfred.

'I think he means the emergency lamps that run separately to the main generator,' filled in Mathew, reading over his brother's shoulder, 'it's to guide first- and second-class passengers to emergency points.'

'Clever,' muttered Arthur, 'so what do you say boys? Want to sail on the grandest ship in the world?'

'Ah come on,' scoffed Alfred, 'everyone knows we make the best boats in the world. But yes, I'm pretty excited about finally going to New York on this ship. You know our father was American? Came over when he was a kid.'

'You may have mentioned it several dozen times,' replied Arthur dryly.

'Hey why don't we take Donny too?' suggested Mathew, 'I'm sure he'd like to see the land of his ancestors too; we could turn the whole thing into a little holiday for the three of us.'

'Donny's your little brother, right?' Arthur's thick eyebrows knitted together as he tried to remember.

'That's him,' said Alfred.

'Good idea,' said Arthur, 'it'll make it less suspicious if you're travelling with someone not employed by me, though the spot's always open if he wants it.'

'Thanks, but I think the kid's set on becoming a farmer or something and spending his life surrounded by animals and plants and sleeping in a barn or something,' Alfred shrugged, 'so, we'll be going down to Southampton in a couple of days, you coming?'

'I'll do with you as far as London,' replied Arthur, 'I told my little brother I'd watch his shop for a bit, he's going on the Titanic with his family too, second class.'

'So who's gonna be in charge here?' asked Mathew.

'Oh, my other brothers and my dearest Eva will watch over things here,' answered Arthur, 'hey, I got little Peter a parting gift for the journey,' he reached into his blazer pocket and pulled out an old, worn book with a yellowish cover and the title and author written on bold, black letters, 'gonna wind him right up with this.'

'_Futility: the Wreck of the Titan_,' read Alfred, taking the book, 'ah come on that's just mean,' he added, reading the blurb, 'sounds interesting though.'

'So you finally learnt to read then,' commented Arthur jokingly.

'Hey I've always been able to read!' Alfred cried indignantly, 'just not really big words and stuff. You try choosing feeding your family over education.'

'Fair enough,' Arthur sighed, 'sorry lad. Now, we have to make preparations if we're to be ready by the tenth.'

…

Here we go, third chapter. Yes, Arthur managed to start his own business with Al and Matt working for him.

So, I guess I should explain that White Star line and Cunard were to two biggest shipbuilding companies at the time, and it was White Star that commissioned the building of the Titanic. And the extracts Al and Matt read out were real snippets from the issue of The Shipbuilder magazine about the Titanic and Olympic, at least, they are according to my book…

In addition, there was a coal miner's strike just before the Titanic set off, meaning many ships' voyages were cancelled, except Titanic's, leading White Star to transfer many people's tickets to it to fill up places, unfortunately for those who were now made to board the doomed ship.

Oh, and Donny's the name I've used for Molossia, yes I'm adding him as I failed to in RD.


	4. We're going in style

_2nd April, London_

'Anyone home?' Franz stuck his head in the front door and peered around before entering the shop, whistling to himself.

'Uncle Franz!' cried a pair of high-pitched voices and young Jemima and Tino ran over to hug him.

Franz laughed, 'wow look at you two! Look how big you've grown!' It was true. It had been nearly a year and a half since he'd last seen them and Jemima had grown another few inches and, at eight years old, was turning into a lovely little young lady. She had Peter's dirty blonde hair, which was curled and tucked back by pins and a straw hat, and Charlotte's eyes and she stood proudly; she shared Peter's love of mechanics and toy-making. Tino was only two, but to Franz, who'd last seen him as a baby, the child as growing fast. Bright blue eyes stared at him from a mop of curly brown hair and Franz wondered what sort of things the little boy was interested in. Well, he was certain that over the next few weeks he'd learn to understand his little niece and nephew better.

'Did you bring us a present from Austria-Hungary?' asked Jemima, rocking back and fourth, tugging at the sleeve of her pink dress.

Franz chuckled, reaching into his coat and pulling out a small paper bag, 'what about this? You like sweets?'

'Yes!' Jemima grinned and Tino clapped his hands, jumping up and down. Franz handed them the bag and they ran off, giggling.

Looking up, Franz noticed the one person he wanted to see.

'Lars you bastard!' he cried, running over to his friend and pulling him into a tight hug.

Lars laughed heartily, 'good you see you too! How've things been?'

'Not so bad,' Franz let go of Lars, smiling, 'and you?'

'Can't complain,' Lars shrugged.

'Hey you're finally here!' exclaimed Peter, rushing down the stairs to see what all the noise was.

'Nice to see you too, Peter,' Franz smiled politely, nodding in greeting.

'Hey since you're here and I'm sure the pair of you have plenty to talk about…'

'Yes, Peter?' Lars raised an eyebrow at his brother.

'We're out of bread,' explained Peter, 'be a pair of dears and go get some more.'

'Fine,' Lars rolled his eyes, taking Franz's hand and leading him outside into the crowded street. Meandering through people rushing past, buying, selling from stalls and trying to attract the attention of passers by, they made their way down to the bakery, run by Charlotte's adopted siblings.

Lars pushed the door open, and a little bell rang to signal their arrival. They were greeted by the smell of fresh bread and cakes, and the sound of casual chatter from the small tables dotted about the room. They made their way to the counter at the end, and were greeted by Yekaterina's husband.

'Hey,' Raivis nodded at the pair, 'what can I do for you?'

'One loaf, please,' requested Lars, 'so how are you?'

'Not too bad,' Raivis noticed Franz standing awkwardly behind Lars, 'Edelstein! You made it then.'

'So good to see you,' Franz smiled at his childhood friend, 'been too long.'

'Definitely,' agreed Raivis, 'so are you both excited for New York?'

'New York?' Lars frowned, 'you going on holiday then?'

'We all are,' now it was Raivis' turn to frown, 'didn't Peter tell you he got tickets for us all to go on holiday to New York?'

'No, no he didn't.'

'Oh,' Raivis smacked his forehead; 'it was supposed to be a surprise!' he giggled nervously, 'oops.'

Just then, Ivan entered from the kitchen at the back with a tray full of bread rolls, crouched down behind the counter and began placing them onto the shelves in the display window for people to buy, humming to himself. Raivis motioned for Lars and Franz to follow him to the other end of the counter.

'Hey, Miss Natalya,' he asked a young woman sweeping the floor, 'mind serving customers for a bit while I talk to these two?'

Natalya nodded and set the broom down, walking over to the counter to take people's orders.

'Yes, so,' Raivis turned his attention back to Lars and Franz, 'sorry, I really thought Peter would have told at least you. Still, never mind,' he gave a short laugh, 'now that you know, I might as well fill you in a bit, right?'

'That would be nice,' growled Lars.

'Right, err, well,' began Raivis, 'see, Peter, Franz and I agreed to book tickets for our families on the _RMS Titanic_ to go to America for a holiday. It's meant to be a present for Charlotte so she can spend time away from work with her family. We've even planned to meet up with her father; he's going to be waiting for us at the docks when we arrive and we'll be staying with him.'

'Oh, so why didn't he tell me?' asked Lars.

'I guess he just wanted it to be a surprise, that's why I haven't told Katty, Ivan or Natalya about it,' Raivis shrugged, 'anyway,' he took a loaf of bread off a shelve and handed it to them, 'I think it's best to talk to him about it. Now I really must get back to work.'

'Course, goodbye then,' Lars tucked the bread under his arm and left. Once outside, a thought struck him, 'hang on a moment Franz,' he stared at his friend closely, 'you're not part of Charlotte's family, well, not really; how come you're coming with us?'

'Well Peter didn't want you to be on your own without company,' explained Franz, 'he thought you might be a bit bored of hanging around families with small children and feel left out, so he invited me along too.'

'That's nice,' said Lars, 'still wish he'd told me though.'

'I'm sure he has his reasons,' Franz pushed the front door of their shop open and the pair went inside. They climbed the stairs to the kitchen and dumped the bread on the table. Peter was sitting down reading a newspaper, looking up when he heard them enter.

'Thanks fellas,' he gave a wide grin and a thumbs-up.

'So,' Lars sat down opposite his brother, 'what plans do we have for Franz's stay?'

Dunno,' Peter looked away, 'umm, would he like to do the tourist attractions? I heard the Dilly's pretty nice this time of year. What about Buckingham palace? Maybe you can even see the King there.'

'Really? I was thinking about something more far afield,' said Lars slyly.

'Lars…' whined Franz, looking at the two brothers nervously.

'Oh?' Peter was still avoiding his gaze, and the colour appeared to drain from his face, 'well, I'm not too sure what you-'

'Why didn't you tell me we were going to New York?' demanded Lars.

'So you heard?' Peter sighed, 'I just wanted it to be a nice surprise for my little brother. I was gonna tell you in a few days anyway. It's just I've worked so hard to make this trip perfect for everyone and just imagined telling you all and everyone being happy.'

'I'm not a small child anymore, Peter,' said Lars, 'you need to include me in important decisions. Besides, there are still plenty of people to tell.'

'Yeah, you're right,' Peter gave a smile, 'so what do you think of going to America?'

'Haven't really thought about that much,' admitted Franz, 'I guess it would be nice to have a change of scenery and see a bit of the world. Probably a few good tourist stops over there.'

'Yeah and this ship we're meant to be going on is supposed to be the most luxurious in the world,' added Peter, handing them a leaflet, 'it has a swimming pool and everything.'

'Why would a ship have a swimming pool?' asked Lars, taking the leaflet, 'I mean, we're gonna be surrounded by water.'

'Yeah but I wouldn't recommend swimming in the bloody Atlantic,' argued Peter.

'Fair enough,' Lars shrugged, 'hey there's a gym too, and a library, restruants, Turkish baths...'

'It sounds more like a floating hotel than a boat,' commented Franz.

'I know right,' Peter grinned, 'am I good or am I good?'

'When to we leave?' asked Lars excitedly.

'We get the train on the ninth, boarding on the tenth,' answered Peter.

'Can't wait,' Lars was jumping in his seat excitedly.

Peter chuckled, 'I think we should probably be getting downstairs; it was a bit unfair to leave Charlotte in the shop on her own,' a look of guilt spread across his face and Peter left the room.

'Guess we should go help too,' said Lars, standing up.

'Sounds fun,' Franz smiled, following him downstairs, 'never really worked in a shop before.'

Lars chuckled, shaking his head 'have you ever done any work in your life?'

'I have a job!'

'Now that's not the same as work, is it?'

'So have you made anything new lately?' asked Franz when they'd entered the shop.

'Well actually I've learnt how to make music boxes…' Lars trailed off, looking somewhat embarrassed.

'Really?' asked Franz, 'I love music boxes! They're such a brilliant artistic creation, would you not agree! I must see them for I'm sure you've made such amazing ones!'

Lars looked away, 'umm, well they appear to have sold out yesterday,' he lied.

'Hello Charlotte!' Franz greeted, waving at the woman in question.

'Ah, there you are,' Charlotte gave a warm smile. She was loading wooden animals onto a shelf next to a large toy ark.

'Sorry, would you mind telling me where the music boxes are kept?' he inquired, 'I believe Lars was not telling the truth when he stated you'd sold out.'

'No don't tell him!' cried Lars.

'They're over there,' Charlotte pointed in the general direction. Franz thanked her and raced off before Lars could stop him. He reached the shelf in question and when Lars caught up, he found his friend studying them closely.

'They're beautiful,' he breathed, 'but I have to ask…'

Lars grimaced.

'…why do you only stick to two designs?'

'Um, well,' Lars glanced at the devices in question. They all consisted of a pair of figures dancing slowly to music. Round and round they went, one wound up, made of delicate porcelain and the female figures wore such detailed, fine ballroom gowns. There only two couples though, repeated in each design. One was of a red haired young lady in a glamorous navy blue gown dancing with a silvery-haired man in a lilac suit with a ponytail. The other was of a silvery-haired lady in a lilac dress, hair flowing behind her, being led by a red haired- of course…

'They're us,' whispered Franz, 'but with either you or me as a girl.'

'Yes, err, sorry if it's a little weird…' Lars scratched the back of his head nervously, wishing he was anywhere else at that moment.

'Not at all,' Franz smiled, picking one of the boxes up and turning the key. At once a cheerful, but slow and graceful, tune filled the shop, 'I'm flattered.'

'Good,' Lars broke into a relieved smile, 'well I didn't think people would buy ornaments of two men dancing so I decided to experiment with the designs a bit. I look pretty good as a girl.'

'We both do,' Franz laughed, 'it's a bit scary, actually.'

…

'Would you mind wiping the counter,' Charlotte asked her husband, 'it's a bit dusty.' It was evening now and the last few customers were wandering around, after popping in after work or school.

'Sure, sure,' Peter smiled at her, 'no problem.' He walked over to the wooden counter with a cloth and got to work. Just then, he heard a familiar song being sung behind him by an even more familiar voice:

'_Oh Mr Porter, what shall I do?_

_I want to go to Birmingham but they've taken me off to Crewe_…'

'_Send me back to London as quickly as you can,_' continued Peter.

'_Oh Mr Porter what a silly girl I am_!' Peter and Arthur sang together, before bursting into thunderous laughter.

'Hey how are you?' asked Arthur, hugging his little brother.

'Fine, glad you made it!' Peter grinned widely, 'Thanks for volunteering to look after the place, but I have to ask, why did you come all the way down? I mean, I've got Aleks and Emil staying here too and they're happy to run the place while I'm gone.'

'Well I haven't see you in ages,' Arthur shrugged, 'and you're going to be away a long time. Beside…' he added, taking a book out of the inside pocket of his coat, 'I had to get you a going away present. It's something to read on the ship.'

'Oh, well, thanks, you know there's going to be a library on the Titanic full of books, but ah well…' Peter took the novella and read the title, ''Wreck of the'… you bastard! What's it about?' he asked, flicking through the pages.

'It's the story of a ship travelling from Southampton to New York that sinks in the north Atlantic. Got it for you as a laugh.'

'Git,' muttered Peter, 'still,' he added louder, 'I doubt that will happen to us. We're sailing on an unsinkable ship.' He yelped as Arthur struck his face.

'No ship is unsinkable, boy,' he growled, 'remember that. And I don't want to hear you testing God by claiming otherwise.'

'Yes sir,' Peter sighed.

'Besides,' continued Arthur, 'they said the ship in that book was unsinkable, so they didn't put enough lifeboats in it. And nearly everyone drowned.'

'Yes but that's fiction,' Peter eyed the book nervously.

'I guess…' Arthur shrugged, 'it's a good read, though, especially when the hero fights a polar bear on an iceberg.'

'Ooh, sounds interesting.'

'It is,' Arthur smiled, 'have I mentioned how jealous I am of you going on this trip?'

'Several times,' Peter laughed, 'still, you're always going on about how you never travel on a ship's maiden voyage and all, so shush.'

'Oh come on,' scoffed Arthur, 'you need a ship you can trust, one that's been at sea a few years and knows the waters. Still, I heard Captain Edward Smith was in charge of this voyage so that gives me some piece of mind,' he shrugged, 'maybe I'll travel on the _Titanic_ later this year sometime.'

'Good idea,'

…

Yes, another chapter. So, everyone enjoying the end of the world?

On to the historical stuff. There really was a novella published called Futility or Wreck of the Titan. It was published in 1898 and appeared to predict the sinking of the Titanic. The two ships seemed to have a lot of similarities; such as weighing roughly the same, carrying around 2000 passengers and not being equipped with enough lifeboats. They were both travelling from Southampton to New York and sank around the same place, after being hit by icebergs. Pretty creepy stuff…

Oh, and the Titanic really did have a swimming pool, gym (complete with one of the first stationary bikes), Turkish baths and libraries (one for first class and one for second).

Oh, and the captain of the Titanic really was called Edward Smith.

I think that's about it; please review.


	5. Guide us safely

_3__rd__ April, London_

Peter wrapped his coat tighter around him and stamped his feet to get some warmth in them. The sun was shining brightly, but it was so cold here. In the early morning, dew still covered the overgrown grass and Peter decided he wouldn't stay too long.

Bending down, he placed a small bouquet of flowers in front of the grey headstone, on which was written _Berwald Oxenstierna 1858-1910_, glancing over at the one next to him, with the name _Tino Väinämöinen 1861-1910_, which had a similar bunch of flowers placed in front of it.

'Hey papas,' he whispered, sitting down between the two graves, 'we're going to be gone a while, Charlotte and Lars and me, well, for about a month or so, so I won't be able to bring you any flowers until I get back. But when I do, I'll bring you the prettiest bouquets I can find. I'll even bring Lars along too; would you like that?'

He gave a small smile, sitting up a little, 'we're going to New York in America, papas, hmm I wonder whether you would've liked it there,' he sighed, 'still, no point thinking about that. Hey, you two will watch over us on our journey, right?' he looked around at the other headstones around him, some bearing familiar names, 'you too, Jemima? Uncle Mathias? Uncle Francis? You'll all guide us safely to America and back?' he smiled, 'thank you.'

He stood up, wiping mud and dew off his coat and trousers, 'just wanted to say goodbye to you all,' he looked around at the members of his family laying here, 'gonna tell them all about the trip today; wish me luck.' He then left, walking to the path that led to the dark, iron gates, casting one final glance at the cemetery before walking out into the street.

He kept his head down as he walked, ignoring the people around him. There was still a sadness in him that always accompanied trips to the cemetery, but he was anxious too. What if Charlotte and the children didn't like the idea of going on holiday? What if he's just making things worse?

'Oh come now Kirkland,' he chided, 'they'll love it… though Charlotte might be angry that I spent so much money without her permission… what if she wanted to go to France instead? Or Spain… no, she'll be happy… or annoyed… maybe this is the thing that'll convince her to divorce me… are you even listening to yourself? There's no way she'll hate you for this… but still…'

Peter continued to argue with himself all the way home. He was even muttering under his breath as he hung his coat up.

'What are you on about Kirkland?' enquired Charlotte, appearing behind him.

'Nothing!' Peter wheeled round to face her, blushing and avoiding her gaze, 'I wasn't speaking to myself I was just err...'

'Don't even try it,' Charlotte glared at him and Peter gave up, glad that the shop was closed at the moment.

'Fine, I was about to tell you anyway but I want to tell everyone at the same time so can you wait a few more minutes while I get everyone together?' Charlotte nodded and Peter picked up a bell placed on the counter and rang it loudly, 'FAMILY MEETING IN THE KITCHEN NOW!' he cried.

He smiled widely at Charlotte, 'got a surprise for you,' he murmured, taking her hand and leading her upstairs.

'Oh?' asked Charlotte sceptically, following him.

…

Peter waited for everyone to settle down, which was taking some time. Little Tino and Jemima were bouncing impatiently in their seats, waiting to be able to run off again whilst Aleks and Arthur were having a conversation and, judging by the way their hands were waving, it was a pretty intense one at that. Lars and Emil, meanwhile, were pushing and shoving each other for space on the very last chair, which they were being forced to share. Charlotte merely stared at him boredly waiting for his announcement.

'Hey quiet now everyone!' he called and everyone's attention turned to him. Well, almost everyone's.

'I'm telling you, our man reached the South Pole too!' cried Arthur.

'Oh yeah?' Aleks raised an eyebrow, smiling slyly, 'then where is he?'

'Well it's a long journey back,' reasoned Arthur, 'I'm sure Captain Scott will be back any day now, probably just a bit delayed, that's all.'

'Not that it matters,' Aleks shrugged, 'Amundsen got there first; he won. Norway beat Britain to the Pole.'

'Are you still arguing about that?' whined Peter.

'Not arguing, young one, merely discussing intently,' corrected Arthur.

'Well I have something very important to say,' announced Peter, ignoring his brother, 'we're going on a little holiday for a few weeks. We board a train on the ninth of April so be packed by then. I will tell you where we will be going then, as it's a surprise.'

'Is it to the workhouse by any chance?' demanded Charlotte, 'don't tell me you've lost everything and are just trying to sugar-coat it. We've been made homeless, haven't we?'

'Nothing like that!' cried Peter, 'it's a real holiday.'

'Well you must have done something,' Charlotte glared at him, 'there must be a reason why we can't afford new materials and certain foods. Are you just trying to butter us up before you tell us about a gambling addiction or something?'

'I haven't done anything,' assured Peter, 'and I'm sorry about the money though; that was for the trip. Tickets and all…'

'But where the hell are we going?' asked Charlotte, 'there are several pounds missing.'

'Ah, that's a surprise,' Peter took her hand, cradling it in his, 'I just wanted it to be a nice holiday for you to, you know, get away from things for a while. You've been stressed and upset lately and I hate seeing you like that. And I hate that I've done nothing about it and I'm sorry.'

'It's fine,' Charlotte smiled warmly at him.

'I still love you,' he murmured, 'you know that, right?'

….

Yes, yes, I probably should have done another chapter of Third Option but this was only a little chapter so I thought it couldn't hurt.

Anyway, if I don't give another update before the 25th, Merry Christmas to you all!

Also, it only seems fair to warn people that there will be quite a few religious references made throughout the story, such as mentions of the existence of God, Heaven and Hell. I want to stress that I'm not trying to offend anyone in any way, just trying to make the story more accurate. As it's set in the nineteen tens, many people believed in God. I hope I made that quite clear…

Anyway, about what Arthur and Aleks were saying: Roald Amundsen became the first man to undisputedly reach the South Pole, beating the British explorer Robert Scott, who unfortunately died in the way home.


	6. On our way

_Tuesday 9__th__ April, Edelstein London residence_

'That'll be all, Toris,' Franz pulled on his jacket as his manservant brushed it down to get rid of any hairs or creases. He was standing in his old bedroom in his family's London estate, where he'd been staying for the past week or so. It was the same place he'd resided when he'd visited London as a child and the place held many memories for him, not all good.

He tried to brush any thoughts of the events the night him and his mother were almost abducted, instead focusing on the early morning afterwards, when Lars, Peter and himself curled up on the settee to sleep, guarded by a faithful Toris who watched over the children as they talked nervously by the fire. The three of them were worried for their parents' safety as they chased Gilbert through the dingy streets and Franz himself hoped they'd arrest him in time to prove his father innocent before he was executed the following day. They reassured each other that everything would be alright and Franz did not let go of Lars' arm, even when they eventually dropped off, wrapped in warm blankets. He was lucky, it had turned out; Peter and Lars not so much.

'Everything's ready for your departure,' Feliks, the coachman, now the driver, informed them before disappearing again to wait in the car.

The luggage was already in a motorcar which would drive him to the station.

'I am very jealous of you, sir, if I may be so bold as to say,' said Toris, placing the brush on the desk and straightening his master's tie.

'Well there's still time to get you a ticket,' Franz assured him, 'it would be lovely if you came too as I trust you and am sure you'd have a nice time in first class, even as a servant.'

'I have to decline,' Toris said politely, 'I'm not too good with ships, seasickness and all, and I'm probably too old for such an adventure anyway.'

'Ah you're never too old for adventure,' argued Franz, grinning.

'Be that as it may,' continued Toris, 'I doubt my little brother would want me coming along. He is certain that I or Eduard would embarrass him in some way if we came along too. I think it will be best to let him have this moment of independence.'

'I see, well would you at least accompany me to the station,' requested Franz, 'I'm sure you want to say farewell to Raivis and your baby nephew, am I right?'

'Oh go on then,' Toris chuckled, 'but please do not attempt to drag me onto the train against my will.'

'I promise I won't,' swore Franz.

'Thank you,' Toris smiled warmly, 'I just hope you can dress and feed yourself when I'm not around.'

'Oh I'm sure there will be plenty of staff on the Titanic to help me,' Franz assured him.

'I don't doubt that.'

…

'Can you tell us where we're going now?' asked Jemima for what felt like the millionth time. They were waiting on the platform in the chilly morning air for the rest of their party to show up. Their train was already at the station, but wouldn't be departing for a good while yet so there was no rush. Jemima had already wandered up and down the platform, studying the thing in detail and deciding what angle to draw it from, a talent she'd inherited from her mother.

'Not yet,' replied Peter, 'none of the others are here and Raivis and I agreed we'd tell you together.'

Jemima pouted but said nothing more, instead began fixing her hat to pass the time. They'd already said their farewells to Arthur, Aleks and Emil in the shop, as the three couldn't leave as they had to run the place now. Peter missed them already.

'Hello! You're already here?'

Everyone turned around to find Yekaterina bounding along the platform balancing her travel bag in one arms, baby son in the other.

'Please don't run,' cried Raivis, sprinting to catch up with her whilst dragging a large suitcase at the same time, 'it's bad for the baby and could hurt them!'

'Which baby?' asked Yekaterina, nodding at her swollen stomach, which contained their unborn second child.

'Erm, well probably both,' replied Raivis. Just then, Ivan and Natalya turned up carrying quite a few suitcases each.

'Hey you didn't wait for us,' whined Ivan.

Yekaterina chuckled, 'sorry I'm just so excited. I mean, the sooner everyone's here the sooner we can find out where we're actually going.'

'Hey you made it then?' called Peter, waving wildly at them.

'Of course!' answered Ivan, joining them and dropping the suitcases on the floor, shaking his arms to get the circulation flowing again.

'So is everyone excited?' asked Yekaterina, 'I know I am.'

'We know you are too,' Natalya shot back, rolling her eyes, 'you've not shut up since you found out.'

'I can't help it,' Yekaterina squealed in delight, hopping from foot to foot.

'Well we're only waiting on Franz now,' said Peter, looking at his pocket watch, 'should be here soon.'

The waited in tense silence for a while longer, then Lars broke the silence with a groan.

'The man's got a car,' he grumbled, 'what the hell's taking him so long?'

'Patience,' chided Peter, 'he'll make it.'

Lars sighed, but said nothing, letting his mind wander to the events of the previous night, when he'd been approached by Aleks after dinner in the workshop where he was putting a rocking horse together.

'So are you going to use this trip as an opportunity to confess your feelings?' he'd asked. Lars remembered feeling both put off and somewhat confused by the forwardness of that statement.

'No idea what you're talking about,' he replied, turning to look away.

'Oh come on,' scolded Aleks, 'you know I'm talking about that Austrian artist friend of yours. You feel for him as I felt for my dear Mathias, don't you?'

'No I do not,' replied Lars quickly.

'What is it with you Oxenstiernas and hiding your romantic feelings for long periods of time? In fact, I believe you may have beaten your own father's record of ten years of hiding his love. I'd believed that was a long time for someone to keep something like that quiet but twenty-four years is something else entirely.'

'It's hardly that long,' scoffed Lars, 'I've only known him for that amount of time and didn't develop feelings until I was eighteen or so…' Lars stopped when he'd realised what he'd said.

'So you do love him?' Aleks raised an eyebrow at him nephew.

'I never said that!'

'You just did,' Aleks sighed, 'he loves you back, you know? I can tell that much.'

Lars shook the memory out of his head, deciding not to trust anything his uncle said. This was the same man who'd thought it would be a good idea to use his papa as bait in a trap to catch a serial killer, after all. And look how well that had ended…

It was then that the artist in question decided to show up, closely followed by old Toris.

'Hello,' he greeted, 'got caught in traffic,' he looked around at the station, 'are we all early or something? There seems to be not many people here.'

'Most people are getting the train tomorrow,' explained Peter, 'I thought it would be best to avoid the crowd and spend the night in a little hotel.'

'Sounds good,' said Raivis.

'So before we board,' began Peter, 'we should probably tell you where we're headed, right?'

Everyone nodded and Peter continued, 'we're getting the train all the way to Southampton where we will spend the night. Then next morning we're getting on the _RMS Titanic_ and going to New York!'

Everyone erupted into cheers and Charlotte stared at him in disbelief.

'Are you serious?' she gasped.

'Deadly serious,' replied Peter, 'what do you think?'

'It's amazing,' replied Charlotte, smiling widely, 'you're amazing.'

Peter blushed, 'thank you,' he said modestly, 'Raivis and I planned together though.'

'Thank you too, Raivis,' said Charlotte, smiling at her brother-in-law, who was at that moment being hugged to death by Yekaterina.

'You're very welcome, Ms Charlotte,' he gasped.

'So what class are we travelling on?' asked Lars.

'First,' 'Second,' 'Third,'

Franz, Peter and Raivis all answered at the same time.

'Oh for fucks sake,' mouthed Peter, closing his eyes and rubbed the bridge of his nose.

'So we're all in different classes?' asked Ivan.

'It would appear so,' Raivis sighed, 'sorry everyone.'

'It never occurred to me to find out what tickets you two were getting,' admitted Franz, 'I always travel first class and didn't think for a moment that you didn't.'

'First class is a bit pricey for us,' clarified Peter, 'and we'd probably not fit in with the wealthy elites. But I thought you could afford second class too, Raivis.'

Raivis shrugged, 'I thought we'd be happier in third,' he explained, 'it would leave more money for the holiday itself and I like the friendly crowds of people in third. There are people from all over going on this ship and they care far less about image than first and second classes do. It's like a little community on a ship and we're going to be surrounded by other Eastern Europeans which will be a pleasant experience.'

'It doesn't matter anyway,' added Lars, 'we'll only be on the ship for a week or so and can spend the holiday together when we land. We'll just get tickets for the same class when we return.'

'Good idea,' said Peter, just then, a whistle sounded and the few people on the platform began boarding, 'that's our cue. Come on now.'

They picked up their bags, except Franz, whose luggage had been loaded beforehand, and began to climb onto the train after saying a cheerful farewell to Toris.

'So I understand that you are particularly looking forward to this trip,' said Franz, making polite conversation with Yekaterina as he helped her onto the train, which was quite a struggle in her condition.

'Of course,' cried Yekaterina, 'it's been ages since I've seen daddy and he's probably going to be waiting for us in New York.'

'I see,' replied Franz, 'so what is your father doing there then?'

'He's travelling around America campaigning for women's rights,' explained Yekaterina as they shuffled down the aisle of the train, trying to find empty compartments, 'he's working with the suffragettes there in hopes that women can get the vote in both the States and the United Kingdom. I mean, it worked in New Zealand, Australia and Sweden, so why not everywhere else?'

'Fair point,' agreed Franz, 'ah, here we go: three empty compartments.'

'Great,' chirped Yekaterina, opening the door to the first one, 'I'll probably be in here with Raivis and my siblings. Hey, little Nicki's waking up.'

Sure enough, her baby boy, Nikolas Galante, began to stir in her arms.

'He's probably hungry,' Yekaterina mumbled, ignoring Franz as she tended to the child.

Franz just shrugged, slipping into his own compartment where Lars joined him a few minutes later, plopping down in the seat next to him.

'So this'll be fun,' he said.

'Most definitely,' agreed Franz, deciding to make the most of their train journey as they'd be kept separate on the ship.

…

'You're the best,' said Charlotte as she, Peter and their children made their way down the train after the others.

'No,' disagreed Peter, 'you're the best. That's why I planned this whole thing in the first place.'

'You're the best,' insisted Charlotte.

'No, you're the best!'

'No, you are!'

'I'm going to throw up,' stated Natalya loudly behind them.

'Alright,' Peter rolled his eyes, 'we'll stop it.'

'Good,' she muttered, 'now move along or we'll all be thrown on the floor when this thing sets off.'

…..

Hmmm, I don't believe there's much to say here… except things are starting to hurry up…


	7. Boarding

'_The world stood in amazement for they'd never seen before_

_Such a stately queen to rule the waves and sail from shore to shore…'_

…

_9__th__ April, late afternoon_

…

'Will you look at the size of it?' exclaimed Peter, staring at the looming ship before him.

'How does it even stay afloat?' asked Charlotte in disbelief, holding little Tino higher so he could get a good look at the _Titanic_.

'Magic of course,' answered Peter, flashing a grin.

Charlotte rolled her eyes, chuckling.

'That's… impressive,' admitted Natalya, staring in awe at the ship, 'a fine piece of craftsmanship.'

'I just can't believe we're actually going on it!' cried Yekaterina.

'You'd better believe it!' exclaimed Raivis, wrapping an arm around her shoulder.

The Titanic sat snugly in the waters, looming over the city of Southampton like a fearsome empress. She towered over the little group, who stood on the docks amongst masses of people trying to catch a glimpse at the liner that would be setting sail tomorrow.

'I can't see!' cried Jemima, jumping up and down.

'Careful, Jemmy,' warned Charlotte, 'you'll get your dress dirty!'

Ivan chuckled and lifted his niece up so she could see above everyone's heads, 'that better?' he asked.

'Yes, thank you Uncle Ivan,' replied Jemima, hugging the tall man around his neck, arms buried in the mass of pink knitted wool that draped over his shoulders. The scarf he wore was a present from Yekaterina one Christmas a few years ago and he never left home without it.

'Are we really sailing on that big ship tomorrow?' asked Jemima in disbelief.

'Of course!' Peter grinned at his daughter, 'you'll have such a grand time on the Titanic, I can tell that much.'

'Well there's no doubt about that,' agreed Charlotte, 'but we can look at it tomorrow when we're boarding. I'm sure Lars and Franz are starting to wonder where we've got to, we said we were only going for a little walk and would be back at the hotel before long.'

'Of course…' Peter gave one more glance at the ship as they made their way through the crowd to the streets that lead back to the hotel, 'see you tomorrow then, Titanic.'

…

'I'm pretty sure we're late,' said Raivis, checking his pocket-watch as they hurried through the streets to the docks.

'Nonsense,' scoffed Peter, 'we have heaps of time. The boat train with most of the passengers won't even have arrived yet.'

'Yes, because the boat train is full of first and second class people who will be boarding later on after the third class is tucked out of the way,' Raivis shot back, 'steerage start boarding at half nine.'

'See,' Peter rolled his eyes, 'we have time.'

'It's twenty to ten!'

'Alright, if you want to rush the last minutes we'll have as a family because, due to lack of communication, we're all in separate classes, then that's what we'll do. We all won't be together like this until we get to New York and I just want to savour this moment.'

'You're going to miss us, Peter?' asked Ivan, grinning childishly, 'how sweet!'

'Well, I'm just afraid they won't treat you right in steerage,' Peter shrugged, 'any problems and all you have to do is say and I'll get you an upgrade.'

'Can he really do that?' Franz whispered to Lars, the pair trailing behind the rest of the group.

'I doubt it,' Lars sighed, 'to be completely honest, I'm not too sure he could afford to pay for our second class tickets entirely on his own.'

'Are you saying he borrowed money?' wondered Franz.

'Most likely,' Lars looked at his brother apprehensively, 'I only hope it was from Arthur or Aleks and not… dodgier sources.'

'I see,' Franz followed Lars' gaze, focusing on the back of Peter's head as the man chatted cheerily to Charlotte, 'if he needs money he only has to ask and I'd help.'

'Thank you…'

'And if you ever get tired of second class,' began Franz, 'my cabin's pretty large and I'm sure I could get you an upgrade… maybe.'

'Thanks for the offer,' Lars cracked a small smile, 'but I don't want to hurt Peter's feelings.'

'Understandable,'

'We're here!' cried Yekaterina, 'look, Nikki, look at the big boat!' She held up her infant son so he could see the vessel better.

Both Franz and Lars' jaws dropped at the sight of the massive ship nestling in the docks before them. She was huge; bigger than any ship they'd seen before, with four funnels and row upon row of tiny windows. Already, third class passengers were boarding the aft entrances on C deck, some just looking for a cheap holiday to America, others looking to start a new life altogether.

'Well,' began Raivis, clapping his hands nervously, 'I believe this is where we part.'

'So soon?' asked Charlotte.

'Afraid so,' Raivis scratched the back of his head, 'apparently third class passengers get medical checks and that all takes time, especially if there's four adults and a baby to get through. Well, good bye then…'

Charlotte and Peter bade farewell to Charlotte's siblings and waved wildly as the group joined the multitude of ragged third class passengers, making their way towards the ship.

'It's very crowded…' whined Yekaterina, trying to avoid bumping into the families around her and keeping her hands protectively over her stomach.

'Hey, it's fine,' soothed Raivis, but as he said that, a shriek cut through the air and everyone around them turned to stare in shock as two young men desperately tried to drag a third member of their party onto the ship, but the man was struggling violently and shouting protests.

'That ship's fucking cursed! I'm telling you!' he cried, 'don't make me go on it! Please, Al, Matt, I'm begging you dammit, just let me go!' he dropped to his knees but the other two still dragged him forward.

'Please, Donny,' pleaded one of them, 'you're making a scene.'

'Good!' shouted Donny, 'this way everyone'll know it's a doomed ship and save themselves!'

'I didn't want to do this but…' one of the men sighed then pulled his fist back and punched his friend in the jaw. The third man fell over, dazed, and made no effort to stop the other two hauling him up and making their way towards the ship.

'Oh, that's not a good sign,' whispered Ivan. Yekaterina gulped, pulling her baby closer to her.

'Nah, it's just superstition,' reasoned Raivis, 'poor fool probably spent the whole night drinking himself stupid or something.'

Nobody wanted to point out that, even from where they were standing, they could tell the man had been stone cold sober, and absolutely terrified.

…

'It looks even more beautiful close up,' gasped Peter, carrying Jemima on his shoulders, 'just look at all that detail!'

'It looks a little bumpy,' commented Charlotte, wrinkling her nose as they drew closer to the second class entrance, just a few metres from the doorway into deck and had a clear view of the side of the ship.

'Hey do you think I can touch it when I walk past?' asked Peter.

Charlotte rolled her eyes, 'you're just going to even if I say no…'

'Ah, thank you,' Peter and Jemima patted the ship as they walked in the entrance, feeling the rough exterior, much to the annoyance of everyone present.

Once inside, the three adults and two children were greeted by a friendly steward, who led then through wooden panelled corridors to their suites, which were opposite each other: one for Peter and Charlotte and one for Lars and the children.

Peter whistled in awe when he entered the cabin, 'well would you look at that! There's even a sofa and writing desk!' he ran around the room, peering in all the draws and flicking the light switch in the room on and off again.

'It's impressive,' agreed Charlotte, looking around and setting little Tino down on the carpet. The tot was crawling off instantly, desperate to check out these strange new surroundings.

'Wow this place is amazing!' called Lars, pushing past other passengers as he crossed the corridor into his brother's room, 'hey our cabins are identical! Have you seen the electrical appliances here?'

'Of course!' exclaimed Peter, wandering into the hallway, 'and look! There's wooden panelling on the walls and everything!'

'The carpet's so soft!'

'There are little soaps in the bathroom!'

'We have a bathroom?' asked Lars in shock, 'I have to try the running water!'

'Not so fast, Oxenstierna,' Peter exclaimed, 'we have to go up on deck and see the ship taking off!'

'Of course,' added Charlotte, 'it'll be our last look at England for a long time.'

'There's still a few hours before that,' Lars shrugged, 'I mean, we have to get the first class people on first and everything needs to be double checked and all.'

'So we can just appreciate what we'll be spending the next week in some more,' said Peter, 'I mean, come on. This is just luxury! I can't believe there were people who cancelled their bookings.'

'Seriously?' Lars raised an eyebrow, 'who would do that?'

'Well young Gilbert Beilschmidt for one thing,' Peter filled in, 'you know, Ludwig and Florenza's little boy. His wife had a nightmare or something about the ship being doomed and begged him not to go on it.'

'Oh what utter tosh,' Charlotte groaned, 'there's nothing worthy of note in nightmares.'

'That's what Ludwig told him!' Peter sighed, 'they still cancelled. Still, means more room for the rest of us.'

'Yes,' Lars looked around the room once more, 'well I guess I should start unpacking so we can get to the deck in time.'

…..

Hey hope everyone had a good Christmas and all!

So, I should explain that 'steerage' is a seafaring term and refers to the lowest class of passengers on a ship, in this case that would be third class.

Plus, I read that there were quite a lot of cases of people having nightmares or bad feelings about the Titanic which caused some passengers to, thankfully, cancel their bookings. Unfortunately, that didn't apply to everyone.

So please review!


	8. Bad omens

_She was the grandest of them all her lines were sleek and bold,_

_She sparkled like the jewels bright, a wonder to behold,_

…

'Quickly now,' urged Peter, 'we'll be departing soon and I want a good view!'

'Yes, yes we know,' Charlotte shot back, holding a restless Tino in her arms. Behind them, Lars was pointing out all the different parts of the ship to Jemima on a map they'd been given, the little girl drinking in all the new information with joy, memorising the layout of her new, temporary, home.

'The second class deck's just up these stairs in front of us,' he called to his brother, who nodded, smiling gleefully. He bounded up the steps, Charlotte's hand in his, and found himself in the open air, surrounded by a crowd of other second-class passengers waving and trying to catch glimpses of friends and relatives on the shore. The sky was clear and beautiful and the atmosphere bright and cheerful. Peter pushed his way through the throng of people, Charlotte and Lars right behind him, and he caught sight of the mass of people standing in the docks to wave them off.

'I can't see!' cried Jemima, jumping up and down but being unable to see past the legs of the adults around her. Peter chuckled and lifted his daughter up onto his shoulders, where she giggled loudly and began waving to Southampton, throwing her hat in the air and catching it for god measure.

Lars noticed several people around him throwing single flowers, and even whole bouquets, at the crowds below and wished he'd thought to do that. It was a pretty romantic idea. Instead, he settled for watching the flowers float down, some caught by those on land, most ending up in the water where they eventually sank below the surface.

He looked up at the first class promenade deck, hoping to spot Franz among the elegant, wealthily dressed men and women cheerily waving and cheering, but could find no glimpse of silvery hair or rich purple clothing. Sighing, he turned his attention to his brother, who was waving wildly and whistling, Jemima struggling to not fall off his shoulders.

'Hey she's starting to move!' he cried over the sound of engines and merriment and the ship's whistle, pointing as the view started to shift as a team of tugboats began easing the Titanic out of the docks.

'This is it,' breathed Lars, smiling to himself.

…

'I can't believe we're actually moving!' screeched Yekaterina, torn between waving furiously, hugging Raivis to death and keeping hold of her baby son, who was sleeping through the whole thing.

'This is… honestly, really exciting,' Natalya allowed herself to give a small smile, squeezing her brother's hand. The two stood a few metres away from the edge, not really joining in with loud cheering around them, but nonetheless excited and joyful.

'Yes, I've not been on a ship since a was a little child,' replied Ivan, then his smile fell, 'I hope I'm not so unused to the feeling of being at sea that I get sick. That would really ruin the trip for everyone,' he looked at his sister nervously, who replied with a smile.

'You will be fine, Vanya,' she soothed, 'stop worrying.'

'Thank you,' Ivan's face relaxed a little.

'Hey that boats coming right at us!' cried Raivis.

…

'Holy shit why won't it turn around?' cried Donny, pointing at the _SS_ _New York_, which had broken free of its moorings and was drifting closer and closer to the _Titanic_.

'Hey don't worry,' Alfred slapped his little brother's back, 'it's nothing to worry about. Why would there be any trouble? The captains know what they're doing and they'll hardly have a disaster just as we're leaving.'

'You fool,' cried Mathew, 'it's the Titanic, she's sucking everything towards her 'cause she's so big,' he looked down at the boat, now only mere metres away, nervously playing with his hands, 'this is going to end badly.'

'Great, fucking great,' Donny growled, breathing rapidly, 'maybe next time you'll listen to me when I say something's a bad idea.'

'Hey it's one of the tugboats!' Alfred pointed at the _Vulcan_, which was rushing to the aid of the other boat. The three brothers watched apprehensively as a line was thrown to the _SS New York_ and the ship was pulled to safety, only four metres from the _Titanic_'s hull.

'See!' cried Alfred, 'nothing to worry about! You always overreact.'

'Overreact?' Donny looked at his brother in disbelief, 'that boat almost crashed into us!'

'Ah but it didn't,' Alfred flashed a wide grin, 'seriously Donald you worry too much.'

'Hey at least that big one stayed put,' added Mathew, waving a hand at the _Olympic_, which had been moored next to the _New York_, 'imagine what would have happened if that came loose?'

'I don't even want to think about that,' admitted Alfred, grimacing.

'Can we go back inside now?' whined Donny, 'I'm starting to feel sick again.'

'If you insist,' Alfred shook his head, taking both his brother's hands and leading them to the stairs, 'really, don't you two just try to relax once in a while?'

…

Franz had watched the incident with the _SS New York_ from the promenade deck, and was one of only a few people worried about it. He ignored the jokes everyone made about the whole thing and _tried_ to ignore the feeling of dread inside him. The whole event just seemed like a bad omen, and Franz briefly considered getting off at Cherbourg or Queenstown, just to be safe, but pushed that aside almost immediately. All his friends were on this ship and he didn't want to imagine what they'd think if he suggested leaving all for the sake of a bad feeling. Besides, no one else appeared to be worrying so why should he be any different?

…

'What do you mean delayed?' cried Peter, staring in disbelief at his brother.

'It's just to be on the safe side,' explained Lars, leading the way back to their cabins, 'apparently there was a near collision as we were leaving and they're just taking precautions. We'll still arrive in Cherbourg today, just a tad late.'

Peter sighed dramatically but said nothing. When they reached their cabins, Peter unlocked the door to his and Charlotte's room and everyone gathered in there, plopping themselves on the bed and settee. The two children took various toys out of their bags and began to amuse themselves whilst the adults made plans.

'So what shall we do before dinner?' asked Lars, 'explore? Find the library? Write postcards?'

'We can do the postcards tomorrow morning before we get to Queenstown,' replied Peter, 'and I already have a book so maybe we should just explore for a bit.'

'This thing has three libraries and you bring your own book?' Charlotte raised an eyebrow.

'Hey it's only a novella,' argued Peter, taking his present out of the draw he'd stowed it in earlier, 'I'll be finished with it in about two days.'

'You actually brought that thing with you?' asked Lars.

'Wreck of the Titan?' Charlotte studied the cover closely, 'are you having a bloody laugh? You're asking for trouble bringing that thing on board.'

'Hey Arthur bought it for me as a joke,' replied Peter defensively, 'I know it seems like some bad omen or something, but it's harmless, why would Arthur buy me this to test fate then yell at me for testing fate myself? I trust him as a seaman and an older brother. Seriously, you worry too much. Now, how about exploring the ship?'

…

Yes, short chapter and a late one too. So, I hope everyone had a happy new year.

Now, historical note: there was a near collision with the SS New York due to the displacement caused by the Titanic's massive bulk which some class as just another bad omen regarding the ship's voyage.

Oh, and I've started posting some lyrics at the start of most chapters to the song 'The Titanic' which was published by the Irish Rovers earlier this year to mark the 100 year anniversary of the Titanic.


	9. Steerage

_The gentry sailed away in style fine wines did freely flow,_

_While the second class and steerage were all quartered down below,_

…

Yekaterina gently placed the sleeping baby in his cradle, well, Lars' old cradle, to be precise and stroked his hair, crouching on the floor of her cabin.

'There there,' she soothed, 'have a peaceful sleep and dream sweet dreams.'

'But I want the top bunk, Talya!' whined Ivan, stomping a foot.

'…At least,' added Yekaterina, glaring at her siblings, 'try your best to.'

'Vanya,' growled Natalya, 'if you go on the top bunk it'll break!'

Ivan gasped, 'for the last time: I'm not fat! I'm just big boned!'

'No,' agreed Natalya, 'but muscle is heavier than fat. You'll kill me!'

'Look,' Yekaterina stood up, folding her arms, 'could you please stop arguing so loudly. Nikki is trying to sleep and you're giving me a headache! Talya, Ivan is not going to break the bed. Just look how sturdy and strong the thing is. What quality! You have nothing to worry about as long as you stop arguing because if that baby wakes up so help me you'll both be sent flying overboard!'

'Yes, Katty,' Natalya placed her suitcase on the bottom bunk, glaring one last time at Ivan, who stuck his tongue out childishly, hopping onto his new bed.

'Well,' began Raivis, trying to keep the peace, 'this is a _very_ lovely cabin. And we can all stay together in the same room here. I heard you can't get as many people in a first or second class room.'

'Yes,' agreed Yekaterina, 'I just wish there weren't two bunk beds, though. It means we'll have to sleep separately for the whole journey.'

'Ah well,' Raivis shrugged, 'it's only for a week or so.'

'I have to admit,' commented Ivan, 'this place is much nicer than home, even if it's a little cramped. But that just makes it cosy.'

'Yes,' Natalya looked around the room, 'it's nice to live somewhere with electricity for once.'

'Enjoy it while you can, Miss Natalya,' joked Raivis, 'you'll have to go back to candle and sun light when we arrive in New York.'

'It's nice to have a few days off work as well,' Yekaterina rubbed her belly, sitting down on her bed tiredly.

'Oh definitely,' agreed Ivan, 'but do you think Charlotte's brother will be fine on his own?'

'Who? Oscar?' Natalya frowned, 'yes, of course he will. If not, then Arthur will surely help out.'

There was silence for a few moments before Ivan spoke up again.

'So, can we go exploring?' he asked, staring at Yekaterina expectantly.

'No,' Yekaterina sighed, 'sorry Vanya, but I've just put Nikki to bed; I don't want to wake him from his nap.'

'I'll watch the baby,' offered Natalya, 'I can explore after dinner or something. I doubt Ivan will shut up if he has to stay cooped up in here and I wouldn't mind having a little nap too.'

'Thank you, Talya!' cried Ivan, leaning over the side of his bunk to pat his little sister's head, 'so can we go? Please, please, please!'

'Okay,' Yekaterina chuckled, 'do you want to come too, Raivis?'

'Sure, I wouldn't mind finding the deck again,' he replied, 'I'm starting to feel a little cramped down here. I'll be fine after some fresh air.'

'Um, may I have a word with Ivan in private,' requested Natalya as the others were leaving.

'Of course,' replied Yekaterina, 'we'll be on our way to the library if you need us.'

'Thank you,' Natalya watched as the couple left then turned her attention to her brother.

'What is it?' asked Ivan impatiently, 'I want to go to the library too.'

'I was just wondering…' Natalya looked away, 'how are we supposed to tell Katty about wanting to stay in America?'

'I… I don't know,' admitted Ivan, 'still, it'll come out eventually,' he smiled at his sister, 'don't think about that; think of what a lovely time we'll have instead. Just imagine, us owning a little farm out west. We could grow whatever we wanted and never be poor or hungry. And just think of that lovely fresh air and nature and sunshine!'

Natalya smiled, closing her eyes, 'yes, that is a nice image. I'm sure they'll understand when we tell them… hopefully.'

…

'Hey who are you?' Alfred stared dumbly at the red-haired man laying in the one bunk him and his brothers hadn't claimed, 'I don't remember seeing you before.'

'Oh, you must be my new roommates,' the man stood up and extended his hand, 'allow me to introduce myself. My name is Salvatorio Vargas and I assume I will be sharing a cabin with you three for the journey.'

'Oh,' Mathew stepped forward, taking Salvatorio's hand, 'I'm Mathew Williams-Jones and these are my brothers: Alfred and Donald.'

'Nice to meet you all,' Salvatorio flashed a grin, 'you know I was meant to be travelling with my nephew and his family but they cancelled, so you must have been given their places, am I right?'

'Yeah,' Mathew sat on his bunk, 'our ship got cancelled so White Star put us on here instead. Wasn't that nice of them?'

'Yes,' Salvatorio jumped back on his bunk, much to the irritation of Donny, who was curled up on the bunk below, 'and it's nice to not be travelling alone.'

'So how come you're travelling to America?' asked Mathew.

'Oh, me?' Salvatorio smiled, 'I'm going to be a film actor over there! My siblings are really successful on the stage, you may have heard of them, but I want to be on the big screen. Just think, to be on film, forever. That's just something brilliant,' he glanced at the brothers, 'what about you three?'

'Holiday,' replied Donny quickly.

'Have fun on your holiday,' said Salvatorio, chuckling.

'And good luck with the acting,' replied Alfred, 'I have to say: I guess we should all call ourselves lucky,' commented Alfred, swinging his legs over the side of the bunk, almost hitting Mathew in the face, 'this place is something else completely.'

…

'So are you boys settling in nicely?' Cheng stuck his head through the door to check on his younger brothers. Xiang and Yong Soo were sat cross-legged on the floor of their second class cabin reading silently and picking from a box of snacks their father had packed for them. They grunted in greeting and Cheng sighed, 'you haven't even unpacked yet?' he glanced despairingly at their suitcases, left untouched on their beds, and entered the room, closely followed by his little sister, Mei. He sat on the settee and folded his arms.

'What would father say if he was here?' he demanded.

'He'd probably be wondering when dinnertime was,' replied Yong Soo, putting his book down, 'why do we even need to unpack? We'll be getting off in a week and I'd rather know all my stuff was in the suitcase where I can find it instead of having to search all these draws to find a shirt or spare pair of shoes, for example.'

'Your logic never fails to astound me, Yong Soo' Cheng shook his head, 'at least Meimei's done what I asked. Her cabin is spotless and her suitcases unpacked.'

'Don't I always do what you ask?' Mei gave a small smile.

'Of course you do,' Cheng stroked his sister's hair, 'it's nice to have at least one decent sibling.'

'Hey we're decent too!' cried Yong Soo.

'Yes, yes,' Cheng chuckled, 'you're all lovely… in, err, your own way.'

'And why do I have to share with Xiang?' demanded Yong Soo, 'you can Meimei have a room each so why can't we?'

'I'm the oldest and Meimei's a girl, so we both need our own space,' Cheng rubbed the bridge of his nose, 'besides, I thought you two got on.'

'Yes but…' Yong Soo sighed, it was true that, ever since Dr Wang took him in, Yong Soo had got along best with the man's youngest son: Xiang. They were both the same age and were almost inseparable, 'fine, we'll share. I'm sure it'll be fun anyway. We can stay up late eating!'

'So what shall we do now?' asked Xiang, looking up from his book.

'I was thinking of finding some other folks to play some cards with until dinner,' said Cheng, 'I assume you children are old enough to look after yourselves for a few hours, right?'

'Yeah!' cried Yong Soo, 'we'll just go on the deck. Hey, Xiang, maybe we can see who can spit furthest over the side.'

'Or we can race each other,' added Xiang.

Cheng groaned, 'I'm going to have to supervise you for the whole journey, aren't I?'

Yong Soo and Xiang nodded.

'Brilliant, just brilliant,' Cheng shook his head, 'so much for a relaxing holiday…'

….

I think this will be the last chapter for a while as I have to revise for my exams and go to counselling and my youth club and other stuff that cuts into writing time.

So, this chapter was more or less to introduce some new characters and give an insight to the steerage (or third class).

Now, onto human names:

Oscar: Hutt River

Salvatorio: Seborga

Cheng: Macau

Xiang: Hong Kong

Mei: Taiwan

Yong Soo: S. Korea

Anyway, please tell me what you think of this story. I'm always grateful for feedback. And, I'd also like to point out, I do not own any of the characters in this story, nor do I own the song in the beginning.


	10. Cherbourg

_6:30 pm, France_

…

'I cannot believe it's an hour late,' spat Kim-ly, sighing and glaring at the massive ship slowly coming into view, anchored off the shore of France and waiting for more passengers, 'I thought it was supposed to be all modern and high tech.'

'I'm sure there's a perfectly sound explanation,' reasoned Niran, 'sailing is a tricky business and riddled with all sorts of complications.'

'I suppose,' Kim-ly shook her head, but dropped the subject, deciding to whistle quietly to herself instead.

The pair were crammed into the _Traffic_, a little tender full of just over one hundred third-class passengers, which was making its way towards the _Titanic_. As the ship was too big to enter the port at Cherbourg, the passengers, luggage and mail was being brought to it instead via two tenders. Niran looked around at the other passengers; they all seemed to be from the Balkans or the Middle East and the young Thai man couldn't help but feel out of place amongst them. He wondered if everyone else thought that he and his Vietnamese wife were strange, but no one stared or disturbed them. Of course, all around him were families and groups of young people looking for a new life in America too busy talking excitedly amongst themselves in an array of different languages to notice them. He heard snatches of Serbian, Arabic, Turkish, Romanian, Bulgarian and many others he didn't recognise and couldn't help but feel a sense of unity about the whole thing. Everyone here may have their own language, culture and history, but they shared the same dreams and hopes: a better life and Niran loved the closeness of it all. He decided to join them in their dream talk and turned back to Kim-ly, an excited smile on his face.

'So,' he began, 'are you as thrilled as I am? We're that bit closer to having our own restaurant, after all.'

'Yes,' she admitted, 'we still have a long way to go, remember, but it's all steps towards our goal.'

'Just think, when we get to New York we can find a little place to stay and I'll find employment, maybe you can too, and save up to buy a place in the city centre, maybe somewhere high-class,' Niran hugged Kim-ly tightly, 'before we know, we'll have our own Southeast-Asian restaurant. I'm telling you, people from all over will come to try our food. We'll use my mother's cookbook to create the best Thai dishes in America!'

'And I have a few recipes of my own,' added Kim-ly, 'to add a bit of diversity.'

'Mm-hmm, I don't doubt your culinary abilities,' Niran smiled at Kim-ly, 'who knows, maybe in the future we'll have a little family too.'

'That's going a bit far,' Kim-ly raised her hands.

'Sorry,' Niran looked away, blushing, 'we are married though, so it could happen one day.'

'I suppose… might be fun, come to think of it.'

Niran nodded, seeming satisfied with the answer, and leaned over the side of the little ship, 'hey I think we're getting close now.'

'About time,' growled Kim-ly, joining him, 'hey, why are they letting the other boat go on first? That's a bit unfair.'

'Well,' Niran shrugged, 'that boat has the first and second class passengers. They paid more for their tickets so it's only fair they get on the ship first.'

'They get to use the gymnasium and swimming pool,' growled Kim-ly, 'they can wait to board!'

'It's just how things work,' Niran shrugged, 'a half hour more won't kill us.'

'I'm sure I'll die of boredom,' groaned Kim-ly, causing Niran to laugh, 'hey maybe you could crack a few jokes to pass the time.'

'Great,' Niran beamed, 'I just made up a brilliant one this morning and was meaning to tell you…'

…

Kuzey re-read his brother's letter for probably the hundredth time since receiving it and shivered in anticipation. It had been years since he'd last seen Stelios, who had travelled to New York and set up his own business selling cars, but now he was finally going to be reunited with his brother. He remembered the euphoria he felt at finding the envelope covered in Stelios' handwriting one morning which contained a first class ticket for the _Titanic_ and a request to join him in America. Apparently, Stelios wanted Kuzey to help him manage the business and Kuzey was all too eager to accept. They would finally be together, just like when they were little.

Kuzey was sure he would miss Cyprus, especially the nice weather. He still wasn't used to the chill, wind and rain and suspected it would be a similar situation in America, even though Stelios had assured him that New York got pretty hot in the summer.

Nevertheless, Kuzey would be willing to put up with snow and sub-zero temperatures to be reunited with his beloved older brother. They had so much catching up to do and, for a moment, Kuzey worried they wouldn't be able to recognise each other when the _Titanic_ anchored in the docks at New York. Maybe Stelios would hold up a sign with his name so he could find him easier. No, Kuzey would know who his brother was; he could never forget that face.

Snapping back into reality, Kuzey saw that the_ Nomadic_, which contained him and the other first and second class passengers, had stopped next to the huge bulk of the _Titanic_ and already the first passengers were being loaded onto the ship. He folded the letter, placing it into his coat pocket or safekeeping and waited patiently for his turn.

…

'It's a bit high,' cried Niran, looking over the side of the deck. They were on the Titanic now and, having left their bags in their cabin, decided to watch the tenders that brought them sail back to Cherbourg with passengers who'd gotten off the ship.

'Only a little,' Kim-ly smiled at him, 'you used to ride on your pet elephant so you can't tell me you're afraid of heights.'

'You're right,' Niran's smile fell, 'I hope Toto's okay and not missing me too much.'

'Ah I'm sure everyone back home's looking after him and feeding him well,' reasoned Kim-ly, 'maybe we could go back home for a holiday and visit Toto.'

'I'd like that,' Niran's smile returned, 'I can tell him all about my adventures.'

'Our adventures,' corrected Kim-ly, taking his arm.

'Our adventures,' agreed Niran.

…

Whoo another chapter! Well, this was to introduce new characters; sorry it's a bit short.

Now, onto human names:

Kim-ly- Vietnam

Niran- Thailand

Kuzey- TRNC

Stelios- Cyprus

The _Traffic_ and _Nomadic_ were two ships designed by White Star specifically for loading passengers onto the _Titanic_ at Cherbourg, as the ship was too big to fit in the docks. The _Traffic_ was sunk in 1941 but the _Nomadic_ survives to this day, and is the only White Star ship to do so.

Hey would anyone consider doing a fic-trade with me? Like, I'll write a one shot about a character or pairing of your choice and vice versa?


	11. Dining in style

_Later that evening_

Franz looked around the elaborately decorated dining room. It was filled with the wealthy, the famous and the nobility, all sitting around tables in fine clothes chatting gracefully with rich food on their plates and fine wine in their hands. Franz weaved his way between tables, occasionally stopping and stepping aside to allow waiters to pass, trying to find a space and some interesting company. Most of the crowd looked like any other wealthy people: dressed to impress and trying to out-compete their peers, in looks and money. He really didn't want to make conversation about his wealth, fashion or business, a trait he shared with his father, who tended to avoid social events at all costs.

He spied a young man sitting by himself at a corner table and decided to sit with him. He wore bright clothes and seemed like an interesting person, and Franz liked interesting people.

'Anyone sitting here?' he asked, tapping the man on the shoulder. The young man jumped slightly, stuffing a letter into his pocket and turning around.

'No, just me,' he replied.

'May I sit here,' Franz gestured to the seat next to him.

'Go ahead,' he turned his attention to the food in front of him.

'Franz Edelstein,' Franz sat down and extended his hand, 'what would your name be?'

'Kuzey Andreou-Adnan,' the young man took his hand and shook it, 'aren't you the famous artist?'

'That's me,' Franz grinned, 'you like my work?'

'Not particularly,' Kuzey admitted.

'I see,' Franz couldn't help but laugh a little, 'and what do you do?'

'Cars,' replied Kuzey, 'my brother has his own business in America, have you heard of Stelios' motors?'

'Yes,' Franz sat up, 'my parents have a Stelios; they lent it to me to get me from Vienna to London.'

'And is it not a great car?'

'Hardly,' Franz wrinkled his nose, 'the thing broke down in Munich,' he shook his head, 'I had to get the train the rest of the way.'

'We cannot be held responsible for any breakdowns,'

'Well I should hope not! You're not the one who drove it into the river,' Franz chuckled.

'What?'

'The driver left the keys in whilst we went for a bite to eat,'

Kuzey let out a thunderous laugh, much to the annoyance of those sat at nearby tables, 'well then it wasn't my brother's fault.'

Just then, a waiter placed a dish in front of Franz and he started eating. It was a soup, and one of the tastiest things he'd eaten.

'This is as good as the food back home,' he stated.

'I think it's a little plain,' Kuzey shrugged, 'but it has a nice texture. Needs a bit of seasoning though, English food tends to be a bit plain.'

'I might have another bowl,' said Franz, taking another sip.

'I wouldn't if I were you,' warned Kuzey, 'you'll have no room for all the other courses.'

'There's more?! I'll be the size of the ship by the end of the week!'

…

'How do I look?' Charlotte placed a cherry-pink, ornate flower clip in her hair and turned to Peter, 'Oscar bought it for me as a going away present.'

'It's beautiful,' Peter looked up from his book and smiled, 'not as beautiful as you though.' He stood up and placed a small kiss on her forehead just as Lars entered with the two children.

'We're all ready,' he said, 'and a little late, I must add.'

'Sh-ugar,' Peter looked at his pocket watch and slapped his forehead, 'come on everyone, we have to hurry or there won't be any tables left.'

The five walked briskly down the corridors, Peter carrying little Tino, and before long they were in the grand second class dining room. They took their seats at a table already occupied by a family of four.

'Hey can we sit here?' asked Peter, indicating at the empty chairs.

The oldest, a young Chinese man with glasses, shook his head, 'help yourself.'

'Thanks,' Peter made sure the two little ones were seated and held out a chair for Charlotte. They exchanged names then fell into an easy silence through the first course. One of the young teenage boys already seated stuck his tongue out at the two children and made funny faces at little Tino, who laughed along.

'Stop making weird expressions, Yong-Soo,' snapped the other boy, hitting him lightly on the head.

'At least I can make facial expressions, Xiang,' Young-Soo smiled widely as Tino giggled at yet another funny face, 'why don't you try it.'

'Can't do any harm,' Xiang gave a small smile and stuck out his tongue at Tino.

'Hey I think Tino likes your hair curl,' Jemima stated, laughing at the pair as Tino grabbed the long strand of hair that stuck out from the rest.

'Ah,' Yong-Soo smile, leaning closer to Tino so he could grab it, 'yes my curl's special. You know I can style it to make a smiley face?'

'Really?' gasped Jemima, 'are you a wizard?'

'No don't call him that,' groaned Xiang, 'he'll never shut up now!'

'Sorry about my boys,' Cheng laughed apologetically.

'Ah it's no problem,' Peter chuckled, 'it's nice to see them all having fun. So you on 'oliday then?'

'Yes and no,' Cheng shrugged, 'our father's trying to promote herbal medicines and I'm helping him by going to America to teach people about them. I brought the little ones along for a holiday.'

'That's nice,'

Lars looked away from the two men and turned his gaze to Charlotte, who was in conversation with the fourth member of the family: a teenage girl who was called Meimei. It seemed that everyone had someone to talk to except him. He looked back at his menu, wishing Franz was next to him.

…

The noise in the third class dining room was deafening; everyone was crowded into wooden benches chatting, laughing, singing and shouting. Yekaterina balanced Nikolai on her lap, spooning mashed potatoes into his mouth, every now and then taking a spoonful for herself. Raivis sat next to her, making funny faces at his son, causing the baby laugh and wave his pudgy arms around.

'Stop doing that,' Yekaterina pleaded through a fit of giggles, 'or he'll never stay still enough for me to feed him. I already have mashed potato in my hair.'

'Sorry dear,' Raivis turned his attention to his food, 'so where's Ivan? He's running a bit late, not that I mind too much,' he added, quieter.

'Oh he's probably just finishing up washing or getting changed into dinner clothes.'

'He's probably having trouble doing the buttons on his shirt,' suggested Raivis.

'Galante!' cried Natalya, 'for the last time, Vanya's not fat!'

'Sorry,' Raivis looked away, 'I spoke without thinking again.'

'It's fine,' Natalya's face told them she thought otherwise, 'well, I'm full now, so I think I'll explore the ship. Excuse me.'

'Bye then,' Yekaterina placed yet another spoonful of food into Nikolai's mouth.

…

Elsewhere, the Williams-Jones brothers were crowded together, talking lazily to Salvatorio.

'So what did you do before the theatre?' asked Mathew.

'I was a… cleaner,' Salvatorio avoid the gazes of those around him.

'In a big house as a servant?' Alfred inquired.

'…not quite,'

'Chimney sweep?'

'Nope…'

'Hey I didn't know you were here too,' exclaimed Ivan from behind them, 'little Sal the shoveler.'

'Oh… hello baker boy,' Salvatorio gave a nervous smile.

'Shoveler?' Alfred raised an eyebrow, 'you're a street cleaner? That all?'

'Not just any street cleaner,' Ivan knelt on the floor in the middle of the aisle, making his height level with those sitting on the benches, 'people paid him to clear up horse shit off the streets,' Ivan chuckled, 'good thing you started doing the acting when you did, all those motor cars seem to have put you out of business.'

'Indeed,' Salvatorio glared at him.

'Hey there's nothing wrong with being a sweeper,' said Alfred, rushing to Salvatorio's defence.

'Not at all,' Ivan chuckled, 'better than nothing, right? I remember you two,' he waved a hand at Alfred and Mathew, 'didn't you used to beg outside our doorstep.'

'Yeah and not once did you give us food,' Alfred childishly stuck out his tongue.

Ivan's smile fell, 'oh, I guess I should have, right? After all, if it wasn't for Mr William taking my sisters and I in, we'd be the same. I guess I should leave you to your meal. Sorry again.'

'Hey it's fine,' Mathew gave a reassuring smile and Ivan smiled back.

'Thanks,' he replied, 'have a good meal.'

After returned to his table, Alfred spied a young woman with sandy-brown hair leaving the room.

'Hey I'll be back in a minute,' he told his party, then he got up and followed her.

…

Natalya pushed the door open and left the dining room, finding herself in an empty corridor. She wished she'd brought a map, so she'd have some idea where she was, but it was too late for that so she started walking. The deck couldn't be too far and if she could find that then the rest of the ship would be no problem at all. With that thought in mind, she turned a corner and kept walking.

'Hey, you lost?'

Natalya turned around to find a young man grinning sheepishly at her.

'Hi, I'm Alfred Williams-Jones,'

'I am Natalya Braginskaya,' Natalya glared at him, 'and I am not lost.'

'Okay, okay,' Alfred raised his hands, 'then may I walk with you until you arrive at your destination?'

'If you must,' Natalya turned around and continued walking, trying her best to ignore the man next to her.

'Forgive me for being so forward, but you're very beautiful,' Natalya glanced at Alfred, who was smiling sheepishly at her.

'You're forgiven,' she looked at him closely, 'have we met before?'

Alfred smoothed his hair, 'probably; I'm always about and you don't forget meeting a guy like me.'

'Ah that's it,' Natalya lightly smacked her face, 'I saw you and your friends boarding. I believe you knocked out one of them because he was making a scene.'

'Ah,' Alfred scratched the back of his head, 'that was my little brother Donny. He's a bit scared of ships and the sea so he was a bit upset about the whole thing.'

'He screamed that the ship was doomed,' Natalya raised an eyebrow.

'So where are ya headed then?' he asked, ignoring her previous sentence.

'To the deck,' she told him.

'Ah,' Alfred snapped his fingers, 'then you might want to consider turning around; we're going the wrong way.'

Natalya's scowl deepened, but she took his advice.

'Please don't be angry,' Alfred pouted, 'I'm sorry if I'm annoying you. Can we start over?'

'I see no harm in that,' Natalya gave a small smile and extended a hand, 'nice to meet you, Mr Williams-Jones.'

He took are hand and shook it, 'likewise, Miss Braginskaya. I hope we'll be seeing more of each other in the future.'

…

Not much to say here; please tell me what you think.


	12. Final letters

_9:00 am, somewhere in the Celtic Sea_

…

_Dear Mummy and Daddy,_

_I am well and happy here on the _Titanic_ and the facilities are satisfactory. Although I have accidently booked a different class to the others, I am sure we will have a nice holiday in New York. I plan to help Mr William and his children with their suffragette work in America; I'm sure you do not object one bit, especially you, mummy, as you're always taught me to see women and men as equal. Who knows, maybe one day women and men will have equal rights everywhere._

_It'll be a nice few weeks, I can tell, and apparently spring in New York is just un-missable. This'll be the last letter I will be able to send before I get there so do not worry if you do not hear from me for a while, especially since my future letters have to travel back across the Atlantic. _

_The library here is magnificent! There are so many books to read, even if I'll never get through them all in a week. But good literature is art, so I will try my best, seeing as I cannot be around my friends for the whole journey. Still, first class passengers have access to all parts of the ship, so I will visit them often._

_How are things with you? I hope you are keeping well and taking my advice on that holiday. I assume you've heard about what happened with your car from our driver. I cannot stress how sorry I am and I promise to replace it as soon as I get home. Ironically, I met the maker's little brother on the ship last night at supper. He's an interesting person; and as you know, I'm fond of interesting people. I hope we'll become friends; maybe he could get us a cheap car. Only joking! I'd never ask that of a friend. Artists have friends based on their personalities and qualities, not their jobs and status._

_Speaking of friends, Lars, Charlotte and Peter send their love; well they probably would if they were here. Anyway, they're in second class with their children, whilst the others are in third class, like I said. It was a lack of communication that brought on this error. Still, we'll be in the same class on the way back and I hear the a la carte restaurant caters for both first and second class passengers, so we'll just dine in there._

_I have to go now. Take care!_

_Signed, your son_

_Franz Edelstein._

…

Franz proof-read the letter to his parents and, nodding, copied it out once more, but translating it from Austrian German to Hungarian for his mother, who loved it when he spoke and wrote the language. He glanced over at Kuzey, who also seemed to have written his in two languages.

'May I ask what languages you're using?' he inquired, 'they seem interesting.'

'Well the top one's Turkish and the one I'm writing in is Greek,' he wrinkled his nose, 'I'm not too fond of the language, it's very tricky and a whole different alphabet, but my brother's Greek is better than his Turkish.'

'I see,'

'And what about you?' Kuzey leaned over to glance at Franz's handwriting.

'My father's Austrian and my mother's Hungarian, so I'm familiar with both of their languages.'

'You learnt two languages fluently?' Kuzey whistled.

'So did you!'

'Yes but badly,' Kuzey shrugged, 'are you done? We need to post these.'

'Hold on,' Franz stuffed his letter into an envelope along with a few pages of sketches of the ship, his room and other things from the journey so far that he'd found worthy of note, 'okay, ready when you are.'

…

'Done it,' Peter threw down his pen and stretched, 'anyone want to add anything?'

'How about the correct spellings,' suggested Charlotte, Lars snickered.

'Okay, okay, so I'm not too good at the fancy writing stuff,' Peter folded his arms behind his head and leaned back in his chair, feet on the table.

'Will you please try to act somewhat classy or at least normal,' hissed Charlotte, 'people are staring!'

Peter glanced around the place and, sure enough, his loud voice was attracting glares from the other passengers. The family was seated around a table in the second class lounge writing letters to their family. Charlotte had already finished her letter to Oscar, no point in sending one to William, and was proof-reading it to spot any errors in spelling or grammar, as Oscar would be sure to point them out in his reply. The two children were drawing pictures to send back, well, Jemima was drawing and Tino just scribbled on paper with coloured pencils. Peter's letter was addressed to Arthur, Aleksander and Emil, and was just a quick description of the ship, some silly joke he'd made up last night and a few insults.

'Want to add anything?' Peter repeated.

'Give it here,' Lars snatched the bit of paper and began writing his own message.

'Give it here?' Charlotte raised a bushy eyebrow, shaking her head, 'what sort of education did you have?'

'The same one as you,' Peter pointed out, 'hey Lars and me were raised in the slums so we didn't get no proper fancy education,' Peter felt some of his old east end accent creeping into his speech, thought it might have been a deliberate attempt to annoy Charlotte and considered letting out a string of cockney, but decided against it, 'ain't it right we're slum boys little bro?' he nudged Lars' shoulder.

'Yes yes piss off I'm writing,' growled Lars.

'Daddy,' began Jemima, 'would my uncles like this drawing I did for them,' she passed a drawing of the Titanic and little stick figures that were meant to be everyone waving on the deck.

'They'll love it,' cried Peter.

'It's beautiful darling,' Charlotte patted her daughter's head, 'can you do one for Uncle Oscar too?'

'Yes I'll do one of those fancy cars he likes and helps make!' cried Jemima, grabbing another sheet of paper.

'You mean a Rolls Royce?'

'Yup,'

'I'm sure he'll love it,' Charlotte chuckled, 'but be quick because we need to have the letters ready for when the ship reaches Queenstown.'

…

'So that's Queenstown?' inquired Ivan, turning to his older sister, who nodded.

'I believe so,' Yekaterina looked at the mass of blue sea, and beyond that jagged cliffs and wild green fields, 'it's really beautiful,' she breathed, absent-mindedly watching as the _America_ and _Ireland _brought more passengers and mail to the ship as once again the _Titanic_ was too massive to fit into the docks.

'It's okay,' Raivis shrugged, 'just a bit of land.'

'It's the last land we'll see for almost a week,' Yekaterina shivered, 'it's kind of eerie, if you think about it.'

'And on that _delightful_ note, I'm going to find little Talya,' Ivan began walking to the stairs to go below deck but Yekaterina stopped him.

'Oh leave her be,' the woman chided, 'she's fine. Try not to smother her on this trip. You two always do that to each other.'

'Yes but I do not like a young woman being on her own in a crowded place like this,' Ivan retorted, 'there are probably all sorts of people who would think nothing of attacking a young woman on her own.'

'Believe me when I say she'll be fine, honestly, you of all people should know that,' Yekaterina laughed nervously, 'Talya is scarier than everyone else on this ship put together.'

…

Natalya groaned as she pushed past other passengers chatting idly in the hallway, trying to find the deck again and rejoin her siblings. She earned a few glares from people she'd barged into, but didn't notice or care. Out of the corner of her eye, she spied a familiar mop of blond hair and blue eyes behind glasses and made her way over to the young man who'd so nicely helped her out last night.

'Ah, there you are little tour guide,' she stated, taking his hand, 'I'm in a bit of bother and am in need of your assistance again.'

'Oh? I don't believe we've met,'

'Alfred?' Natalya looked at the man in front of her closely, found she'd got the wrong person and let go of his hand like it had scalded her 'oh, forgive me, I thought you were someone else.'

'Yes I think you're looking for my twin,' the man replied, 'I'm Mathew Williams-Jones, Al's brother. We do look similar but we have subtle differences if you look.'

'Yes you're quite different from him,' Natalya admitted, 'your hair is nicer and you're not annoyingly loud.'

'That's me,' Mathew chuckled, 'our eyes are different too and I'm a little taller then he is, despite us being twins,' he leaned down until his mouth was right next to her ear, 'please mention that every time you see him; Al finds it really annoying.'

'I'll remember that,' Natalya allowed herself a small smile, 'now, do you by any chance know the way to deck?'

'Of course,' Mathew beamed, 'you just go down that corridor an-'

'Hey Mattie!' Alfred bounded over and slapped his brother on the back, 'you making moves on my lady?'

'I am not your lady,' Natalya glared at him.

'And I am just helping her out!'

Alfred pouted, 'okay, fine… but helping her out is my job!'

'I have no interest in short men like you,' Natalya added.

'Hey!' Alfred gasped dramatically, then turned on Mathew, 'you tell her I'm shorter than you?'

'Maybe,' said Mathew slyly.

'Well it's not noticeable,' Alfred assured Natalya, who merely chuckled.

'Okay, I believe you; now, about those directions.'

…

'Natalya's a nice girl,' Mathew commented as he and Alfred made their way back to their cabin.

'Hands off,' Alfred warned, 'she's mine!'

'Of course,' Mathew raised an eyebrow, smirking.

'Do you think Natalya would say yes if I asked her to marry me?'

'What?' spluttered Mathew, 'Are you mad? You've known her one day! Honestly, you and your crazy ideas.'

'I know,' Alfred sighed, 'I meant in the future sometime. D'ya think she'd say yes?'

'She'll break your hand that's what she'll do.'

'No fair!'

Mathew stuck his tongue out at his twin, 'maybe if you treat her well and don't hurt her, she might warm to you. But be careful, she seems fragile under her cold armour, so don't play her.'

'I'd never hurt or play Natalya!' cried Alfred, 'besides, it's too early to say if she even likes me back,' the pair fell into silence for a few minutes before Alfred started chuckling.

'What is it now?' snapped Mathew.

'I can see your ankles through your trousers,' Alfred pointed out, smirking, 'I think we need to buy you your own pair in New York or you'll be turning heads everywhere with your immodesty.'

'It's only women who can't show ankles,' Mathew corrected, 'and even then it's an outdated idea.'

Alfred laughed loudly, 'Come on, let's find Donny before he wanders off, gets lost in the crowd and has a fit or something.'

…

Hmm not much to say here, except please tell me what you think.


	13. Fun on deck- second class

'_Roll on Titanic roll; you're the pride of the White Star line,_

_Roll on Titanic roll; into the mists of time.'_

…

'Hey Lars, open up!' Lars peered over the book he was reading and stared at the door to his cabin, which was being attacked by Franz on the other side. So he'd found out where they were staying then. The other side of the small room, Tino and Jemima began fidgeting, giggling at their Uncle's voice.

'It's not locked; just come in and stop disturbing the other passengers.'

'Ah,' Franz opened the door and stuck his head in, grinning, 'well, as I can go anywhere in the ship, I thought I'd visit my best friend and see what it's like in second class. What squalid conditions you poor live in!' he added jokingly.

'Not as fancy as your place then, I assume,' Lars shook his head and continued reading, 'just because we don't have a solid gold bathtub, doesn't mean our conditions are squalid.' The two children jumped off their bed and ran over to hug Franz.

'Hey, hey Uncle Franz,' began Jemima, 'can we go play on the deck?'

Franz chuckled, 'well, surely it's best to ask your parents that.'

'No, I'm looking after them for the day,' answered Lars, not looking up from his book, 'giving Peter and Charlotte a chance to rest.'

'Oh, and you plan to stay inside the whole time?'

'Pretty much,'

Franz sighed, 'well that's no way to spend a holiday; come on, we'll go up on deck for a bit, get some fresh air.'

'But-'

'You can take your book if you must. They have places to sit up there.'

'Thank you,' Lars stood up and put on his coat, helping the little ones into theirs.

'It'll be fun,' Franz reasoned as the four began walking through corridor after corridor, 'stop being so grumpy Oxenstierna.'

'Gumpy Oxenstierna,' mimicked Tino.

Franz chuckled, lifting the little boy up. Lars just rolled his eyes and took Jemima's hand, as the child had a habit of wandering off and doing her own thing.

…

Up on deck, the air was fresh and crisp; the weather lovely, if a little chilly. The two men and two children stood on the second class deck looking over the side as the ship cut through the waves. Well, everyone except Lars, who lay in a deck chair, eyes closed and resting.

'Late night?' asked Franz, walking over and sitting on the deck chair next to him, little Tino still in his arms.

'Kinda,' Lars opened one eye and groaned, 'Tino had a bit of a cough and Jemmy was too excited to sit down and go to sleep.'

'Poor you,' Franz grinned, 'I slept like a log in my big comfy bed.'

'Shut up,'

'Quality food they have here,' Franz tried.

'Surely you'd be used to such luxuries,' questioned Lars.

'Doesn't mean I can't appreciate them,'

'Fair enough,' Lars lazily looked around at the deck, filled with other second class families and couples ambling along. Just then, two young boys, whom Lars recognised from dinner last night, ran past, racing each other and laughing. Their older brother sped after them, shouting angrily in a language Lars didn't recognise. He finally caught up with the pair and began to scold them, in English this time, so everyone could hear what he was saying in a hopeful attempt to embarrass the boys.

'-And what have I told you about messing about and getting in everyone's way?' he had his hands on his hips now, glasses halfway down his nose and was glaring furiously at the two boys. A teenage girl caught up with them and approached nervously, listening to their conversation.

'I told baba I'd be responsible for you two; would it kill you to make my job a little easier?' the man, who Lars now recognised as Cheng Wang, continued, 'this is _my_ holiday too and I haven't been able to relax for a second.'

'We're just having some fun,' one of the boys, Xiang, argued.

'Well can't you have quieter fun?'

'No, that's boring,' whined the other boy, Yong Soo, 'we wanted to have a race, that's all. I told you I was faster, Xiang.'

'Well people keep staring!' argued the girl, Mei, 'it's so embarrassing!'

'Do you think you'd be able to watch them for a few hours?' Cheng asked her, 'they might listen to you.'

'But I-' Mei sighed, 'yes, that's fine.'

'Thank you,' Cheng began walking off, 'if I hear that either of you have gotten into trouble, I'm throwing you both overboard!'

'Understood,' Yong Soo gave a mock salute, rolling his eyes.

'You know,' began Mei, after Cheng had left, 'you two keep winding him up. If you're not causing a disturbance, then you're hiding his stuff or getting into trouble with the crew. Why?'

'Don't know,' Xiang shrugged, 'we're just having a bit of fun. There's not much for children to do on here so we have to make our own entertainment.'

'Can't you read or play board games?'

'Meimei, please,' Yong Soo looked at his sister exasperatingly, 'those things are so boring, alright in small doses, but we can't do them for the whole trip.'

'Hmm,' Mei scratched her chin, 'how about we go exploring. I'd like to see the boiler room.'

'Hey that sounds like a laugh,' Yong Soo grinned, 'what do you say, Xiang?'

The other boy nodded, 'beats wandering around here. It's kinda dull up on deck.'

Lars lost interest in the children's conversation, looking around for his niece. Failing to find her, he shot up, starting to panic.

'Jemima?' he called, 'where is she?'

Franz swore under his breath, scanning the deck for any sign of Jemima's blue dress and blonde pigtails.

'Hey this isn't funny any more; godammit Peter's going to kill me,' Lars ran over to the edge of the ship, leaning over the side, 'surely she couldn't have…'

'Couldn't have what?' piped up a small voice.

'Jemima?' Lars glanced around and found a large pair of brown eyes peering at him from under the cover of a lifeboat. So that's where she'd hidden.

'Don't do that to me again!' he cried, running over to the child and lifting her out of the lifeboat, 'I thought we'd lost you!'

'Sorry Uncle Lars,' mumbled Jemima, 'I just wanted to see what was in those lumpy material thingies.'

'They're canvas to cover the lifeboats,' explained Franz, 'so rainwater doesn't collect in the bottom.'

'Oh, but why does the boat need little boats?' questioned Jemima, 'are they the Titanic's babies?'

'They're for if something goes wrong with the ship then everyone can sail away in little lifeboats safe and sound,' explained Lars.

Jemima frowned, 'but daddy said nothing could go wrong with the ship.'

'Nothing _can_ go wrong, it's just in case,' Lars shrugged, 'doubt we'll need them. No need to worry.'

'Ooh,' Jemima looked at the lifeboats in interest.

'I think it might be best to go inside for a while,' Franz suggested, 'it might be less stressful.' Tino had just discovered Franz's ponytail, and was determined to pull the thing off for himself, thinking it was a soft toy, which was causing poor Franz great pain and discomfort.

'Good idea,' Lars began walking over to the entrance, 'say goodbye to the lifeboats Jemmy.'

'Bye bye boat babies,' Jemima waved at the lifeless boats with one arm, holding Lars' coat with the other.

…

'Hey, Xiang, Yong Soo?' Cheng poked his head round the door to his brothers' cabin, finding the pair sprawled out on the floor, Mei was on the sofa, face down, 'what happened?'

'We walked all the way down to the bottom of the ship to see how it worked,' Xiang told him.

'Then we got yelled at by one of the crew for trespassing,' continued Yong Soo, 'and ran all the way back here cause we thought he was going to beat us or something.'

'Now we're _so_ tired,' whined Mei.

Cheng just laughed, 'hey, maybe you should do that every day! Might give me a break if you're all too tired to stand.'

'And what were you up to?' demanded Yong Soo.

'Found some other fellows in the lounge to play cards with,' replied Cheng, sitting on whatever part of the settee wasn't occupied by Mei, 'you know how much I like a good game.'

'Didn't baba tell you not to gamble on this trip?' Xiang raised a bushy eyebrow, staring at his brother.

'I won't tell him about putting salt in that lady's soup if you don't tell him about my card games,'

'Deal.'

…

Sorry for the delay in chapters, I'm such a lazy butt. That and research is taking ages. It's hard to memorise all the details and I want this to be accurate.


	14. Fun on deck- Steerage

Yekaterina lazily watched the game of football being played on the deck from the comfort of her deck chair, cradling her baby son as he took in the sights around him. Young Alfred, one of her sister's new friends apparently, had provided the ball and split everyone into two teams. It was 'Team Europe' versus 'Team America', or Alfred and his two brothers versus Ivan, Raivis and an Italian chap a little older than she was called Salvatorio, who shared a cabin with the Williams-Jones brothers. He'd seemed pretty familiar to Yekaterina when they'd first been introduced and it turned out he lived a few streets away from her; his family often visited the bakery and, after thinking about it, she realised she knew his older siblings too.

Right now the six of them were kicking a battered leather football across the deck, using deck chairs to mark the goals. A few steerage passengers were watching from the sidelines, small children talking excitedly amongst themselves in a variety of languages. Every time someone scored, the crowd erupted into cheers and clapped, if it was their favourite team who'd won. Yekaterina loved the sight of it. The audience, even the players themselves, were all different races, ages and genders, but united by something as simple as a ball game. Everyone was laughing and cheering, and even those not interested in the game seemed to be having fun, milling around on deck in little groups, sharing stories or telling jokes.

Yekaterina turned to her sister, who was sitting on an identical chair. Yekaterina herself was too pregnant to join in the game, and Natalya didn't want to, so they'd decided to sit and watch. Natalya was knitting, something she was slowly becoming better at ever since Yekaterina had first taught her how to do it. She was carefully clicking the needles against each other, creating tiny knots that would make up a new scarf for Ivan.

'You're always making woolly clothes for us,' she'd said when she first asked for lessons, 'and I want to make a scarf for Ivan, so he'll have one from both of us.'

Yekaterina had thought it an extremely sweet idea, and immediately agreed to help her. Now Natalya knew how to cast on and off and, after a few trial runs, was developed enough to try making something as long and complicated as a scarf.

'You're doing well,' commented Yekaterina, smoothing down her dress.

'Thank you,' Natalya didn't take her eyes off the wool.

'So…' Yekaterina glanced at her husband and brother, still laughing and playing football, 'Alfred seems nice.'

'…Indeed,' Natalya avoided her sister's gaze.

'So what's the story with him?'

'I… don't know,' Natalya sighed and put her knitting down, 'he's appears to be fond of me for some reason. I think he wishes for us to become friends.'

Yekaterina suspected he wanted something as well as friendship, but didn't mention it to Natalya. The young lady would just have to figure it out for herself.

…

'I wish I had a camera,' said Niran absent-mindedly.

'What for?' Kim-ly tore her eyes away from the ocean before her, looking at her husband questioningly. The pair were leaning against the railings, lazily watching the water in the Atlantic tumble and rise, churning up foam as it hit the side of the ship. It was dark blue in colour, almost inky-black.

'I just want to capture this moment, that's all,' Niran pushed his glasses further up his face, 'you look beautiful, as always.'

'Thank you,' Kim-ly's frown deepened, 'but I have to disagree with you.'

'You disagree with the truth?' Niran raised an eyebrow, 'I wish you could see how much your beauty- both outside and inside- shines.'

'You're sweet,'

'You're the best,' Niran rested his head on her shoulder, 'so what's the first thing you want to do when we're on land again?'

'I don't know,' Kim-ly shrugged, 'find somewhere to stay. Maybe get something to eat. It'd be nice to dine alone after a week of eating with hundred of others crowded together.'

'Yeah? How about a bit of sightseeing first?' suggested Niran.

'Surely it's better to make sure we have a home- even a temporary one- to go to at once.'

'You're right,' Niran sighed, 'it's just, I feel a bit cooped up here. We live on the lowest floor on a floating hunk of steel in the middle of the ocean. It's cold and crowded and I just though it'd be nice to walk wherever we wanted for a bit.'

'It'll be cold in New York too,' Kim-ly reminded him, 'but if you really want to sightsee, I don't really see a problem with a little walk to see the Statue of Liberty or something.'

'Can't wait,' Niran hopped excitedly from foot to foot, 'now I wish I also owned a camera so I could send photographs of all the amazing things in America to everyone back home, but still mainly to take photographs of you.'

'Maybe we could buy postcards,' suggested Kim-ly.

'Never thought of that, thank you,' Niran stroked Kim-ly's hair, 'you're so smart!'

'Thank you,' Kim-ly gazed at the messy-haired young man she called her husband and recalled the first time she'd seen him, a teen with even messier hair who'd travelled from the Kingdom of Thailand to French Indo-China as the first stop of his world travels. She'd felt a bit sorry for him when he mentioned he didn't have any money, or anything at all for that matter, and she'd let him stay with her and her family in their little home, sharing what they had in exchange for help around the house, the latter being at his insistence. Over the weeks, he kept talking about all the places he was going to visit, but never left. She didn't mind too much; he was a sweet guy and she enjoyed his company, having few friends. It seemed he enjoyed hers too, in a completely different way, because one day he declared his love, in front of her whole family, and asked her to marry him. She hadn't the faintest clue how to react. They were close friends, almost sibling-like in closeness and now this? Kim-ly just didn't get declarations of love and she'd thought it a cruel joke on his part, so ran. She fled to the river on the edge of her town, and sat on a boulder amongst the trees, her favourite place in the world. It was a peaceful, serene spot away from everyday like and it made sense she'd go there when she was upset, and it was no wonder that's where Niran looked first.

He apologised repeatedly for upsetting her, and begged her to let him prove his love was real. He sounded so sincere, and Kim-ly dared to believe he was telling the truth. She agreed to give him a chance and that if he really loved her, he'd wait until she was ready. He agreed.

Over the next few months Kim-ly began to realise that, if she were to spend the rest of her life with someone, it would definitely be Niran. He never judged her on her looks, wealth or attire, only on her personality, and she found him to be a wonderful person in character and actions. Niran loved nature, Kim-ly had soon found out, and they were constantly talking about it, swapping tidbits and random facts about whatever plants and creatures they came across. Niran particularly liked elephants, which was why Kim-ly had let him keep Toto, when the man had turned up one day with the elephant, a tiny calf back then.

Six months after his proposal, she agreed to marry him, absolutely certain that their feelings for each other were equal and mutual, and Niran looked like he would explode from happiness. Even now, when the two of them were standing on the deck of a boat on a freezing cold morning surrounded by people cheering the world's worst football game, he was still in high spirits.

'What are you thinking about?' Niran asked, looking at her curiously.

'Oh nothing,' Kim-ly turned her gaze to the ocean in front of her, 'just the past and all that.'

'Funny,' Niran chuckled, 'I was thinking of the future.'

'And what do you see in the future?' Kim-ly regarded Niran with amusement.

'Same as always,' replied Niran, nuzzling Kim-ly's cheek, 'a lifetime of happiness with you.'

Kim-ly had heard him say things like this a million times before, but she still never knew how to reply to them, so she decided to kiss him on the cheek instead.

'Let's go inside,' she told him, 'it's starting to get chilly out here, and the crowd's getting too noisy.'

…

All six footballers groaned whilst Ivan buried his face in his hands to hide his humiliated expression. The crowd began to disperse, some laughing, others grumbling, though a few waited to see what would happen next.

'What did they do now?' asked Natalya, glancing up at her sister.

'Vanya kicked the ball over the side of the ship,' Yekaterina replied.

'Ooh he's in trouble now,' Natalya gave a small smile, watching as the other five started shouting, waving their arms widely and lamenting.

'Dammit Ivan,' Alfred looked despairingly over the side of the ship, where he could see the football bobbing up and down, thrown further away from the ship by the churning waves, whilst the _Titanic_ sped onwards, oblivious to it all, 'that thing cost me three fucking farthings!'

'I'm sorry!' cried Ivan, 'I'll get you a new one, okay?'

'You better,' Alfred warned, pointing a finger in Ivan's face.

'I will!' Ivan rolled his eyes and stomped over to where his sisters were sitting. He pulled up his own chair and sat next to Yekaterina.

'Sister,' he whined, poking her shoulder, 'the other boys are being mean to me!'

'Shh,' Yekaterina lightly slapped his hand away, 'I just got Nikki to fall asleep; don't start making a racket. I swear, the day you wake him up will be the day you follow that ball overboard, you got me?'

'Yes,' Ivan pouted, 'are you going to be just as scary when the new baby arrives?'

'Of course,'

'About the new baby,' began Natalya, 'what have you decided to name it?'

'Well, seeing as I named Nicolai,' answered Yekaterina, 'Raivis said he'd like to name the new baby with a nice Latvian name. So far he's suggested Emilija or Alise if it's a girl and Mikelis or Teodors if it's a boy.'

'And do you approve of those names too?' asked Natalya.

'Of course! I wouldn't let Raivis give our child a name I did not approve of,' Yekaterina glanced at Natalya in amusement, 'what about you? Would you mind your child having an American name if your husband wished it to have one?'

'I would do what you did,' replied Natalya, 'give half my children Slavic names, and the other half… why American? That's very specific.'

'Oh nothing,' Yekaterina gave a sly smile, 'on a completely different note, how are you and Alfred getting along?'

'We're fine- is that what you meant?' Natalya glared at her sister, 'Alfred is my friend, if you can even call our relationship that.'

'I don't,'

'What's this about Alfred?' Ivan cut in.

'Nothing,' Yekaterina smiled innocently.

'Too right it's nothing!' growled Natalya.

'You cannot deny the way he looks at you,' argued Yekaterina.

'We have only known each other one day.'

'But that doesn't stop him from regarding you with such adoration and treating you like you're the most important person on earth.'

'You… really think so?' Natalya glanced over at Alfred, who jogged over to the three.

'Hey Talya, did you like my amazing skills?' he asked, sitting on the same deck chair as her.

'Of course,' Natalya gave a small smile, 'have you tried playing professionally?'

'Not yet, but who knows?' Alfred shrugged, then spied little Nicolai asleep in Yekaterina's arms.

'Hey who's this little cutie,' he cooed.

'Nickolas Raivisovich Galante,' replied Yekaterina proudly, 'or Nikki.'

'Is he your baby?'

'No, I stole him,' replied Yekaterina sarcastically, 'of course he's my baby!' she held the sleeping child close to my face, 'and you're the cutest little baby in the world. Yes you are, _yes you are_.'

'She's mad,' Alfred whispered to Natalya.

'She's not mad; she's a mother,' Natalya whispered back.

…

Whoop, whoop, updates!

Hmm, not much else to say here.


	15. A little lost

'Look Ti, I'm sure it's this way,' Jemima ducked past a family gathered in the corridor and grabbed her little brother's hand, pulling him along behind here, lest they get separated. They were wandering past third class cabins and people, trying to find their uncles and aunts but in doing so getting more and more lost in the maze of alleys and corridors. In her other hand, Jemima was carrying a small note from Charlotte with the intention of delivering it to Yekaterina, or any of her relatives for that matter. There was also a small chocolate in her dress pocket for Nicolai, her baby cousin. The two had planned to explore steerage on their own and meet up with their extended family for a few hours. Their parents had given them permission, deciding the children would be safe to wander the ship alone. But there was one tiny problem: they had gotten hopelessly lost in the maze of corridors.

'Were does the map say we are?' Jemima came to a halt and glanced at Tino, who gurgled in reply. The little girl sighed and took the paper from his hands, 'silly me,' she said, 'I forgot you can't read.'

'Pit-ure,' Tino pointed at the diagram of the ship, showing the different floors and labelled rooms.

'Yes, picture,' replied Jemima, 'but where on the picture are we?'

Tino didn't reply, and instead wiped his nose on a pair of trousers. The owner of said trousers wheeled around, glaring at the two.

'What the hell is your problem?' he snarled, looking down at the tiny children, 'where the fuck are your parents?'

'Wha?' Tino ran over to Jemima and ducked behind her, clutching her skirt tightly.

'Sorry sir,' Jemima began, 'we're lost.'

'Well piss off and be lost somewhere else!'

'Now now Donald,' chided another man, placing a hand on Donald's shoulder, 'don't scare the little ones.'

'That pipsqueak brat wiped his snotty nose on my trousers!' protested Donald.

'You did the same to Alfred and myself when you were little,' the other man shot back, then he knelt down beside the children and smiled warmly, 'do you need any help?'

Jemima nodded and stepped forward, 'y-yes. Can you help us find our way back to second class?' she didn't want to find her extended family anymore; getting back to safely to her parents was all Jemima cared about now.

'Of course, I'm Mathew by the way, and the grumpy one over there's Donny,'

Donny growled, folding his arms and leaning against the wall. Jemima giggled and even Tino peeked out from his hiding place, beaming up at the young man.

'Hey what's that?' asked Mathew, pointing at the letter.

'Oh, it's for my Auntie Katty,' explained Charlotte, 'or Uncle Vanya and Auntie Talya.'

'Katty, Vanya…,' Mathew frowned, 'you mean Yekaterina Galante, Ivan Braginsky and Natalya Braginskaya?'

'That's them!' cried Jemima, 'they're my mummy's siblings. You know them?'

'Yes,' Mathew laughed, 'tell you what, would you like me to give it to them?'

'That'd be lovely sir,' Jemima smiled sweetly and handed him the note, 'oh, and can you give Nikki this too?' she dug into her pocket and pulled the little chocolate out, 'he really likes sweet things and we didn't know if they had those in third class.'

'Of course,' Mathew pocketed the chocolate so it wouldn't melt in his hands, 'I like sweet things too. Have you tried ice cream?'

'Yes but daddy said it's bad for you,' Jemima pouted, 'he said dirt and nasty things get caught in the machines that make them.'

'Ah that just adds flavour,' scoffed Mathew, standing up, 'so I'll find you family while Donny takes you to the second class area.'

'What?' cried Donny, 'why me?'

'Because I told you to,' Mathew sighed, 'and because a walk will do you good. Besides, you owe them for being rude.'

'Fine,' Donny rolled his eyes, 'come on midgets, we'll go find your parents.'

'Sorry about him,' Mathew whispered to the smaller two, 'he doesn't like ships too much and has been a bit… well, agitated lately. That and he's never liked small, crowded places. Please bear with him.'

'Understood,' Jemima took Tino's hand and the pair raced off to find Donny again. The caught up with the young man and beamed up at him. Jemima took the opportunity to study him closely. He was wrapped up in poor-fitting clothes, probably second hand, held together by suspenders and pins, with a flat-cap covering his messy, dark hair. He looked at her nervously with pale eyes.

'What?' he side stepped away from them and barged past a group of people walking in the opposite direction.

'Nuffin,' Jemima broke into a jog to keep up with him, Tino stumbled along behind her, 'your accent sounds funny. Are you American?'

'Erm,' Donny slowed down and looked at her curiously, 'well, yeah- kinda. My old man was American and we sorta picked up his accent. I assume you're English.'

'Halb-engleesh,' Tino filled in, struggling with the new words his parents had taught him, 'catter-Australian and catter-noo-zee-lan-der.'

'Quarter Australian and quarter New Zealander,' Jemima clarified, 'Tino's still learning to talk.'

'Tino? What sort of name is that?' Donny raised an eyebrow. If they were English, Australian and New Zealander, then why did the little girl say that little Eastern-European family were related to her mother?

'Finnish, like our grandpapa.'

'Wait, I thought-'

'Our daddy was adopted.'

'I see,' Donny decided to not question their family tree further, and instead turned a corner and walked up some stairs. Past endless doors, either open, and showing small snapshots of people's lives, or closed off from the world. Donny tried not to think about how narrow everything was, how there was no way out. It took every amount of restraint to not flinch every time someone brushed against him, or even looked his way, as he lead the children to the gate.

Just ahead, the gate in question stood, blocking the steerage passengers from trespassing into the first and second class areas. Donny came to a halt and glanced at the Kirkland siblings.

'Well, err, I can't go any further than this without getting into trouble,' he glanced tensely at the gate, already feeling his palms become sweaty, 'can you find your way from here?'

'I think so,' Jemima stepped forward, 'thank you mister.' She reached into her pocket and pulled out another chocolate, 'here you go!'

'Wow… err, thanks,' Donny took the pocket and gave a small smile. Sure, he wasn't too keen on the stuff but he was in no doubt that Alfred would love it, 'take… take care, okay?'

'Will do sir,' Jemima waved cheerily and slipped through the gates with Tino before running down the corridor and disappearing. Donny half-heartedly waved back, giving a small, awkward smile. He glanced once more at the gate and froze. It seemed to be coming towards him, as were the walls and ceiling, trapping him from the surface and Donny felt there was no way to escape. He could sense the terror rising inside him and shook his head as a hot flush washed over him. No, not here. Not where there were other people watching. He could feel himself sweating wildly now as he looked for a way to escape. The surface. There was air and wide space there, if only he could find the deck and breath again. He turned around, using the wall to steady himself and made his way back, trying to find the entrance to the deck. But where was it? Hell, where was he? Donald gulped, but no air went into his lungs, and took a step forward, almost keeling over from dizziness.

_Where were Al and Matt when he needed them?_

…

'Hey, hey Franz!' Kuzey spied Franz in the crowd on deck and jogged to catch up with him.

'Oh, afternoon Kuzey,' Franz greeted, giving a small smile.

'How come I didn't see you at lunch?' demanded Kuzey, 'forgive me for complaining, but it was pretty horrible dining alone in such a big crowd.'

'Hey it's fine to complain,' Franz waved a hand, 'and you don't complain nearly as much as my father does. Anyway, I was dining at the a la carte restaurant with some of my second class friends today; we decided to eat there from now on. Sorry I didn't tell you. Hey, why did you dine alone? Surely there must have been someone just as lonely to talk to.'

Kuzey sighed, leaning against the railing and staring out at the sea, 'well, I'm foreign, and a Muslim, so people distrust me.'

'I see,' Franz leaned beside him and joined Kuzey in his faraway staring, 'but surely, as we're on a ship in the ocean, we are all foreign here. I'm guessing you meant that as a non-English or –American. As an Austrian Catholic, I'm often treated with the same distrust. It's stupid, really. Isn't it? You're a great person, Kuzey; don't let everyone else get you down, okay?'

'Why would I let others get me down?' Kuzey grinned, 'I'm rich and have a brother that cares for me that I'll be seeing again in less than a week. The weather's beautiful and the food is phenomenal. Don't worry; I always look at the positive things in life and would suggest you do the same.'

'I'll make sure to do so,' Franz tightened his ponytail and chuckled.

'So, what are your plans for the afternoon and evening?' asked Kuzey.

'Hmm, well later I was planning on joining my friends in their second class suite for dinner and light-hearted chatter.'

'I see,' Kuzey looked down, resigning himself to another meal alone.

'You know,' began Franz, 'I'm sure they wouldn't object to me bringing along a friend, if you're interested.'

'Really?' Kuzey grinned, 'I'd like that very much.'

…

Hello, author here. Now, thank you to everyone reading this, I hope you're enjoying it and please please please review. Those things make my day!

Now, I have to say something serious here. What you experienced Donny going through was, indeed, a panic attack (brought on by claustrophobia). Now, if you ever experience one in real life then the last thing to do is move from where you are (this is set in a time before Freud's work and other psychological studies into phobias etc, so Donny and his family had no chance of actually knowing all this) and try to remember that, although you can't just stop panicking and calm down (and anyone who tells you different is wring), panic attacks don't last forever and will eventually pass. It helps to focus on something non threatening and visible and try to focus your breathing. (Information was taken from the nhs website. For more information on any illnesses or worries, I'd recommend heading there.)


	16. Brothers

'Hey, just wait it out, okay? Like we've done before,' Alfred sat next to his brother on deck, a metre or so away to give him space. Donny lay with his back to the wall, breathing in and out quickly and staring at the pocket watch Alfred had handed to him, slowly beginning to calm down. He was sweating like mad, and still didn't know where he was, but he was calming down now. The watch focused him, slowly stopping the confusion.

Alfred hated seeing him like this. Of course he did! Donny was his baby brother and Alfred had sworn since the kid's birth that he'd always protect him. But how can he protect Donny from his own mind? Even Alfred couldn't manage _that_ and it made him feel like the smallest person in the world.

He and Mathew had attempted everything over the years, every time Donny had a panic attack, to see if they could calm him down: trying to talk him out of it, shake him out of it, once, they'd even tried striking the madness out of him. It had only made things worse, and Alfred could never forgive himself for even attempting it, but he'd been desperate.

Donny was terrified of how he was. Ever since he was little he'd been forced to hide his fears or people would shun him, call him a wimp, weak, pitiful, mad. Alfred didn't want to see his little brother locked away in an asylum, the last place he'd ever want to go. They'd heard stories about what happened to inmates, how they were treated, so it was vital that no one found out about Donny's condition. Alfred didn't want his brother living knowing he was different and unwell, but at least he was relatively free.

Well, physically free, at least.

'How's he holding up?' whispered Mathew, sitting down next to Alfred.

'Nearly there,' the young man replied, drawing circles on the floor with his finger. Finally, he sighed and looked up, gazing at Mathew fearfully. Mathew could tell what his twin was trying to say.

'I'm worried too,' Mathew sighed, 'but… it's something we've all had to live though. Donald gets sick sometimes but he always makes it out alive. We've been telling ourselves that since he was a child, remember?'

'I know,' Alfred groaned, leaning back against the wall, 'but I'm the oldest; I should be able to protect you all.'

'You are by no means the oldest,' corrected Mathew, 'I was born first, mama said, and even if you were, that does not make you responsible for all three of us. Yes, we're brothers and, yes, we will always stick together and help each other through our problems but you cannot blame yourself for things that are out of control. Donny is unwell, and has been since he was little. The best we can do is support him.'

'Wise old man,' Alfred stuck his tongue out, chuckling.

'H-hey…' Donny looked over tiredly, shuffling closer, 'thanks, again,' he handed Alfred back his watch. He was exhausted, and looking at the floor in shame. The sight broke Alfred's heart even further. After all this time Donny still blamed himself for his panic attacks.

'Ah don't mention it,' Alfred laughed, stuffing his watch back into his pocket, 'so, feeling better then?'

'Much better, yeah,' Donny grinned for a moment, then his smile fell, 'so, was I really bad this time?'

'Not at all!' lied Alfred.

'_Al_,'

'Could've been worse,' Alfred shrugged, 'maybe taking you on a ship wasn't the best idea. Sorry we didn't listen.'

'Why would you have any reason to listen to the crap I say?' Donny raised an eyebrow.

'Because you are my brother and I should have known how crammed it would be in the steerage of a ship. I never thought they'd put gates up in the corridors though. It's like the upper classes are so scared of poor people dirtying the furniture or something.'

'Yeah, it was silly of us,' added Mathew.

'You wanted a family holiday,' reasoned Donny, 'the three of us together going to the land of our ancestors and all. I like that idea, just the journey that's a bit of a problem.'

'We can work around that,' Alfred thought for a moment, 'tell ya what, how about we stay on deck as much as we possibly can. And maybe just stay in the general or dining rooms other times we're awake. Those rooms are pretty big, right?'

'Yeah, I don't feel so bad in those places,' agreed Donny, 'would you really mind though?'

'Not at all!' scoffed Alfred, 'now, what else can we do?'

'We could always sleep with the window and door open in our cabin,' suggested Mathew, 'if Salvatorio doesn't mind.'

'Won't that be cold?' Donny glanced at his brother uneasily, 'Salvatorio said he was from Naples originally; that's in Italy, right? Wouldn't he really hate the cold if he's from such a hot place?'

Mathew shrugged, 'he's grown up in London since he was a child. He'll be used to a little chill.'

'It's still colder out here than in London,' argued Donny, 'I can't go anywhere without my coat, hat and gloves.'

'Yeah but our clothes _are_ embarrassingly thin,' Alfred pointed out, 'that's the downside to being poor.'

'We'll just ask him, okay?' added Mathew, 'maybe if we explain-'

'How?' Donny glanced around nervously, 'would he even understand?'

'We don't know until we try.'

'I do know something without trying though,' Alfred pointed out, grinning.

'And that is…?' asked Mathew.

'The three of us are going to have so much fun in New York, seriously,' Alfred giggled gleefully, 'we'll rent out a little room while Matt and I write up a report for Arthur and we can go see all the tourist attractions every day and get the train and see the statue of liberty and all sorts of things!' He shuffled over and pulled his brothers into a tight hug- checking Donny was fine with the close contact first.

'Oh, that sounds like fun,' came a voice from behind them. The three brothers yelped and wheeled round, coming face to face with Ivan, who was looming over them, 'may I visit you sometime in America?'

'What? No way!' Alfred wrinkled his nose, 'I don't want to be around stupid scary guys who kick soccer balls over the side of ships!'

'Look, I am so sorry about your football earlier,' Ivan gave a small, apologetic smile, hands behind his back.

'So you damn well should be,' Alfred pouted, standing up to his full height- as well as on his tiptoes- but coming nowhere near to being level with Ivan, 'do you know how expensive that was?'

'Yes, you made it quite clear,' Ivan's smile was replaced by an expression of annoyance briefly before that persistent grin returned, 'and I still plan to buy you a new one. But for now, will this do as a substitute?' he pulled a handmade lump out from behind his back.

'What the hell is that?' Alfred stared disdainfully at the makeshift ball.

'Oh, I stole some napkins at lunch and sewed them together,' explained Ivan, passing the football to Alfred.

'Eww,' Alfred held the football at arm's length, 'it's so squishy! What the hell did you stuff it with?'

Ivan avoided Alfred's gaze, 'erm… mashed potatoes.'

'Well we really appreciate the gesture,' Mathew butted in before Alfred could say anything.

'Oh good,' Ivan chuckled, 'do you fancy another game, you three?'

'Ah go on,' Mathew chuckled, 'we never did finish the last one. Alfred?'

'Yeah, fine,' Alfred threw the ball lightly in the air and catching it again, frowning, 'aw, it doesn't bounce.'

'Oh, I should warn you not to kick it too hard,' Ivan gave a nervous chuckle, 'you might burst the stitching.'

'And we'll have potato everywhere?' Donny lunged forward, snatching the football from Alfred's hands, 'you'll have to do better than that old boy!' he sniggered, running off.

'Oy!' Alfred dashed after him. Mathew just chuckled, turning to Ivan.

'So what do you say, me and you against that lot?'

Ivan laughed quietly, pulling at his scarf, 'no problem.'

…

Hey I actually got round to updating this! So, good so far? Please leave feedback!

Anyway, I'm sure you know that asylums back in those days were pretty terrible. This was a time before psycho-analysis, mind you, so people then didn't know how phobias and mental illnesses could be, well, if not cured then helped by therapy.

In other news, would anyone be interested in yet another story set in this universe? This one would be about the stage group mentioned in red doll and basically everything from their origins to becoming a group of successful actors. It would have the pairings Turkey/Netherlands, Spamano, Gerita and Giripan (with a few others). Would anyone read it?


	17. Infatuation

'_We'll own the fastest record for the crossing of the sea,_

_And the RMS Titanic, she'll go down in history.'_

…

_That evening_

…

'Are you sure they won't mind me tagging along with you?' Kuzey asked Franz for the third time that journey as they wandered through brightly lit corridors, their strange, colourful outfits attracting a large amount of unwanted attention from the plainly-dressed teachers, doctors and the other people who made up second class.

'They'll love you!' Franz exclaimed, 'haven't I already said that? In fact, from what you've heard of them, would you believe they'd find you annoying?'

Kuzey had to admit Franz had a point. All afternoon the young man had told him all about his 'poor but happy friends' in the lower classes.

It started when Franz, whilst wandering the deck chatting aimlessly with Kuzey, had overheard some of the other passengers watching the steerage section of the deck from their promenade and making fun of them and, even more disturbingly, making lewd comments at the female passengers, particularly a blonde Ukrainian woman with a new baby, who was familiar to Franz.

Kuzey had watched in amazement as the artist pounced on them and demanded they show more respect to their fellow passengers, regardless of class. After that incident, Franz had talked all about his companions, their families, stories, habits, personalities and the like. In return, Kuzey talked about his brother, and what they'd been like as children, growing up in Cyprus as half-brothers with different languages and nationalities.

Now, Kuzey was eager to meet these remarkable people, but still felt nervous nonetheless.

'Ah, here we are,' Franz rapped sharply on the door before being let in, 'hey, Peter, I brought a friend along.'

'Ah good,'

Kuzey followed his friend, finding himself in a small, but cosy, cabin. Inside, the five Kirkland-Oxenstiernas, plus Franz, were sprawled out on the settee and bed, the youngest child crawling about on the floor. Little Tino Kirkland grinned up at Kuzey and began crawling towards him, gurgling and reaching out. The young man side-stepped away from the toddler, glancing at him nervously.

'Ah, sorry about him,' Charlotte picked up her son to stop him grabbing at Kuzey's clothes, 'he just loves meeting new people.'

'Uh huh,' Kuzey stared in wonder at Charlotte, taking in how her brown hair fell over her shoulders, hairpins abandoned on the table next to the bed, her amber eyes, looking at him curiously, and the way her red dress clung to her body, causing him to blush slightly. Captivated, Kuzey found he couldn't form words, so settled for waving awkwardly and staring at the carpeted floor.

Franz cleared his throat loudly, glaring at his friend before turning to Peter, 'I hope you don't mind that I brought company, but it seemed unfair to leave him alone again.'

'Not at all,' Peter gave a small smile, dismissing the artist's statement with the wave of his hand, 'the more the merrier.'

'Ah good,' Franz tugged at Kuzey's shirt, motioning to him to sit down and the latter obeyed, casting the occasional glance in Charlotte's direction as she sat on the bed next to her husband, Tino sat on her lap, gurgling quietly and staring at his hands.

'I'm Jemima Kirkland,' Jemima stood in front of her guest, holding out a hand, which Kuzey took.

'Pleasure to meet you, all of you,' he added, beaming at everyone, 'I hope I'm not intruding.'

'Not in the slightest!' cried Lars, 'so you're Franz's new friend, huh?' Franz could've sworn he'd heard the slightest hint of jealousy in the man's voice, but dismissed it as his imagination.

'Yes, allow me to introduce myself: I'm Kuzey Andreou-Adnan.'

'Lars Oxenstierna,' Lars also held out his hand.

'Oh I know who you are,' Kuzey grinned, taking it, 'Franz has told me all about you.'

'Did he now?' Lars gave a small smile, 'I hope everything you heard was good.'

'Of course! He speaks very highly of you.'

'And me?' Peter raised an eyebrow, grinning.

'So, so,' Kuzey replied, shrugging.

'Ah,' Peter shot Franz a glare, sticking out his tongue jokingly, and earning a glare of his own from Charlotte.

'Behave,' she hissed, 'now's not the time for acting like a child.'

'We're in privacy, Charlotte,' Franz shrugged, loosening his tie, 'if we cannot relax here then where can we? Now, how about you ask the steward for a bottle of wine to be delivered here, Peter, and we have ourselves a little party?'

'Oh why the hell not?' Charlotte grinned, snuggling closer to her husband.

'May I have a glass?' asked Jemima, plopping herself down between her two uncles.

'I don't see why not,' Peter replied, 'but only a little one,' he added upon seeing Charlotte's expression.

'Ah go on then,' the woman smiled, 'let's celebrate!' Jemima threw her arms in the air and cheered, before remembering that was an unladylike thing to do and sat quietly, hoping her parents wouldn't chide her. They didn't, but Lars tickled her, causing the child to start laughing.

'So, has the fancy lifestyle of the first class got to you yet?' he asked Franz, smirking.

'I'm used to it,' the young man replied, 'you know, what with my family being extremely wealthy and all.'

'Yeah, yeah,' Lars rolled his eyes.

'I'm not sure I like it though,' mumbled Kuzey, joining the conversation, 'but Stelios must've paid a lot for my ticket, so I can't complain.'

'I see,'

'Hey, how about a sing song?' asked Peter, grinning at the other passengers.

'Please don't sing Oh Mr Porter,' muttered Lars, eyes flicking upwards.

'_Oh Mr Porter, what shall I do? I want to go to Birmingham but they've taken me off to Crewe...'_

'For the love of god,' Lars shook his head whilst Franz just laughed.

…

'So what sort of literature do you enjoy?' Kuzey leaned back on the bed, resting his back against the wall. Charlotte, who was sat next to him, thought for a few moments at the question. Peter, Lars and Franz were slowly getting through a bottle of wine, singing loudly whilst Jemima sat in the corner reading, Tino fast asleep next to her.

'Well, I'm a bit of a Wilde fan,' Charlotte replied, 'I love his humour. I also love reading Dickens. Peter wouldn't stop raving about his work so I tried it, and just like that I was hooked. He grew up in the slums as a child, so feels a personal connection to those kinds of authors; he likes Twain too, as did his father.'

'I see,' Kuzey smiled warmly at her, 'how sweet of you to try something to have more in common with Mr Kirkland.'

'Well, he read all of Louisa May Alcott's books because I recommended them, so it was only fair I returned the favour,' Charlotte looked at him in interest, 'what about you? What sort of books do you like?'

Kuzey thought for a moment, scratching his chin, 'I enjoyed 'the man of property' and emphasise strongly with Phillip Bosinney.'

'He was the architect, right?'

'That's him!'

'Didn't he have an affair with a married woman?'

'Apparently,' Kuzey hummed, 'though she was hardly in a loving relationship, would you not agree?'

'Of course, that's why the architect was needed in the first place; her husband was trying to build a house to hide her from society.'

'That's not a reflection of your relationship with Peter, is it?' Kuzey asked, genuinely concerned.

'Not at all! My father is a women's rights activist and Peter agrees wholeheartedly with his views, but our problems are more…' Charlotte sighed, 'you don't really want to hear about my marital troubles, do you?'

'On the contrary, I'd love to. It's good to talk, according to my brother, and I might be able to help you.'

'Okay then, well, he's so childish,' Charlotte glanced at her husband, deep in conversation with Lars, 'like he doesn't care for responsibility or the adult world. I sometimes feel we're too different.'

'You don't seem too different,' Kuzey commented, 'I mean, you're both very intelligent, from what I hear, and have similar views on a lot of things. If it's your personalities that are getting in the way, then try to find a balance, as in, you act a bit more childish and he acts a bit more responsible. There's nothing wrong with a little bit of difference anyway; maybe you actually complete each other.'

'Thank you,' Charlotte nodded, 'I'll try that. So you're planning to meet up with your brother, right?'

'Stelios will be waiting for me in New York, yes,' Kuzey smiled at the thought, 'it's been many years since I last saw him.'

'Well, it's nice that you'll get to see him again.'

'Most definitely,' Kuzey tilted his head slightly, 'what about you? do you have siblings?'

'Two brothers and two sisters,' Charlotte told him, 'the younger ones are booked into steerage whilst my oldest brother, Oscar, is minding their bakery back home.'

'So he didn't want to come then?'

'Nah,' Charlotte shook her head, 'he's terrified of boats.'

'That's a shame; he probably would've enjoyed it here.'

'Well, he is one for luxury…'

…

'Peter is not one for telling Charlotte who she can or cannot see,' began Franz, glaring harshly at Kuzey as the pair walked along the first-class corridors to their cabins, 'and he is too polite to say this, so I will: please keep your distance from Charlotte.'

'I have no idea what you're talking about,' Kuzey avoided his gaze, blushing slightly.

'Oh please,' scoffed Franz, 'I saw how you were with her, talking about books where wealthy people have affairs, leaning towards her in an outrageous fashion and gazing into her eyes-'

'-the same way you gaze into Oxenstierna's,' finished Kuzey.

'I beg your pardon,' Franz looked at him in disgust, 'I never-'

'Don't bother lying! Anyway, what do I care about you and him? You're my friend, okay?'

'Accept my preferences all you want, I still refuse to condone any advances towards Charlotte.'

'As if I would ever do something like that! Yes, I'm infatuated with Mrs Kirkland, but that's all it is: an infatuation. I can control myself, and shan't get in the way of her marriage, especially when they're trying so hard to fix it. It's just, I've never met anyone like her.'

'Charlotte's a brilliant woman,' Franz agreed, 'but she's also married, and although she may not always get along with Peter, she's not the sort of woman to be comfortable having an affair anyway,' Franz told him.

'Like I said, I'm not looking to have an affair with her. In addition, why would I do anything to jeopardise our friendship? You're the only person who's said more than two words to me on the floating pile of shit and I don't want that to go away.'

'Oh, I see,' Franz sighed, staring guiltily at the floor, 'apologies, and thank you.'

'For what?'

'For… being my friend.'

…

**Firstly, I am so, so incredibly sorry for not updating this in, well, fucking ages. At first, it was to avoid updating around the anniversary of the actual sinking, which could be considered highly disrespectful, then I had exams and other stories and sorry!**

**So yeah, warning, this chapter contains scenes of one-sided TRNCWy, sorry to anyone who dislikes this pairing. In addition, I would like to stress that Kuzey is not going to be portrayed as an antagonist/villain of any sorts, so don't worry about that.**

**No real historical notes to add here; please leave a review.**


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